


Midwinter Song

by Kaiisan, mustangisinflames



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Bandit AU, Battle, Drama, Drama & Romance, Elves, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Roller Coaster, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Fantasy, Fantasy AU, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Heavy Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Humor, Light Angst, Light Smut, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Original Character(s), Rebel AU, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Some Humor, War, War Era, Who knows tbh, bandits, not us, royal au, so much drama, there will be angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-18 16:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 63,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7322431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiisan/pseuds/Kaiisan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustangisinflames/pseuds/mustangisinflames
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is unrest between the lands. The country of North Blue is war-stricken and desolate, its royal family dead and the only heir missing. West Blue, in an attempt to take control of the North, are planning something, and East and South Blue are preparing for whatever might lie ahead. The sides are at a stalemate. And trapped in between: a cunning, mischievous bandit who might just hold the key to it all.</p><p>Story co-written by Kaiisan and mustangisinflames.<br/>UPDATES EVERY 2-3 MONTHS (due to conflicting real-life schedules)<br/>Follow our fic's blog for more info: mossyprinceau.tumblr.com</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ! :D  
> Hi there everyone! Kaiisan here. Thank you for having a look at this long-awaited fic! Thank you to the people who've been following this fic's blog over the past couple of months - we're so glad to finally share this story with you!! And thank you to all the new readers finding this fic :D 
> 
> The story will be updated Once A Month, usually in the first week. Despite writing in advance we want to keep the updates slow, because mustangisinflames and I are working hard on getting each and every plot detail just right! Chapters will also be quite lengthy, at the moment the average is about 6k words. We also want to include chapter art! So, as you can see, all these things will take time ^^ 
> 
> In the mean time, feel free to have a look on our fic's tumblr page to see some character designs, story tidbits and story references and inspirational nature photography that we hope adds to the world building experience:
> 
> mossyprinceau.tumblr.com

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where it all begins...

**Prologue**

Sanji sighed at the scullery sink and rubbed his face with the back of his hand, avoiding the flour on the palm. His knuckles ached and his shoulders needed to pop badly from kneading all the dough for the bread that morning. He put his aching digits into the bucket of water that had yet to be tipped into the basin and scrubbed at the flakes of dough that had wormed their way into the creases in his skin. The cool water was a blessing for his hot and hardworking hands and he stood there, letting the water work its wonders as the scullery maids and washers worked their way around him. His moment of peace was short lived.

“Eggplant!” Zeff, the head cook of the castle’s kitchen and Sanji’s adoptive father – and boss -, yelled from the kitchen hall and his voice somehow carried over the clangs of metal cooking utensils, and the shouts of other workers and servants, “Get back in here!”

Sanji ruefully dragged his hands out of the water bucket and moved to the hall, the smile of one of the pretty scullery maids adding a little more spring to his step. Zeff stood out from everyone else in the kitchen, stood up on an upturned empty crate and bellowing orders. It was impossible _not_ to see him. Zeff spotted him straight away, barely anything escaped the old man’s gaze.

“Eggplant!” He barked as Sanji walked up to him, and Sanji scowled at the ridiculous nickname.

“I’m thirteen,” Sanji said boldly, “I’m a _man_ not an _‘eggplant’_.”

“You’ve a lot to learn about being a man, green bean.” Zeff snorted, tossing away Sanji’s statement with such ease that Sanji could feel his anger rising. The old cook scratched the side of his nose with a finger and then fiddled with his moustache that was so long that it had been plaited either side in a thick gathering of hair. Sanji thought it looked ridiculous, but Zeff didn’t seem to care for whatever Sanji thought about him, “What trouble have you been getting into now?”

Sanji frowned, “What the hell are you on about, old man? I’ve been here all morning making the damned bread like you told me to.”

Zeff shrugged, “Hm. Well, the King has requested for you to go to the Prince’s quarters, so you’d better have your story straight by the time you get there.”

“I’m not lying, old man!”

“Get upstairs, I have a kitchen to attend to.” Zeff ordered and like that the conversation was over. Sanji wasn’t that angry, he knew his father was busy and when he wasn’t in the kitchen working, Zeff was actually a pretty nice person. He’d taught Sanji a lot over the years. Sanji scowled at the cook.

“Fine.”

Why the King would want to see him, Sanji had no idea. But the Prince was understandable. He and Prince Trafalgar Law were good friends despite him being three years his elder at the age of sixteen. They were both adopted so Sanji guessed that they had bonded over that initially. Law usually came down to the kitchen most days when he didn’t have Healing Studies to attend. As the King, Corazon, had no other children or next of kin, Law was next to inherit the throne and, in accordance to the North Blue royalty traditions, the heir was to train rigorously in healing magic and medicinal herbs which was what the kingdom of North Blue was renowned for throughout all the lands. The heir was only able to coronate after the King had died and if their healing magic was at the highest standard. Otherwise a consort was put in their stead.

The stairway that led up to the Prince’s quarters had over two hundred steps, so far was it from the servant’s halls and kitchens but it was no bother to Sanji and his legs; he’d been training with Zeff for over four years now. Before the old man became the castle’s head cook, Zeff had been part of the Royal Guard and though his job was to have provided food, he’d taught himself his own fighting style in case the Guard’s kitchen was ever ambushed. Sanji had heard from the soldiers himself that the nickname ‘Red Leg Zeff’ was nothing to do with the colour of the Royal Guard uniform, and it made him shudder to think just how strong his father was. So after the years of harsh, and still ongoing, training two hundred steps was a breeze to Sanji. He hoped to be as strong as Zeff one day, and be the next head cook of the Royal kitchens.

Sanji stopped just short of the full arched doors and rapped on the dark oak with his knuckles. He noticed some flour on his dark blue servant’s shirt and rapidly brushed at it before the door could open all the way.  A servant man opened the door and looked at him expectantly.

“Sanji Black. I was called for, by the king?” Sanji said, a little uneasy under the man’s steady gaze. The servant nodded and stepped out of the room, ushering Sanji in and then shutting the door.

The large chambers were vacant and Corazon and Trafalgar were nowhere to be seen so Sanji remained by the door and puffed his chest up a little in an attempt to make himself look smarter and bigger, like the man that he was. His eyes trailed over all the objects in the room. For a prince, Trafalgar didn’t half make it look like his room belonged to a peasant. There were books, both medical and for writing in, scattered along a writing desk and lying half open on the stone floor. A few practice swords had fallen just short of the trunk that they belonged in and a pile of clean clothes were dumped in a heap on the floor. Sanji assumed the servant in here before him had been trying to clean but from the state of the room, it didn’t look like they had got very far. The only area that looked as though it had just been tidied was the bed and the bedside table.

An unrolled scroll hung from a cast iron nail in the wall at the far side of the room and the slightly greyed parchment paper displayed a drawing of the human anatomy. Notes were written furiously upon it in spidery lettering. Sanji couldn’t make out a single word of it but if it made sense to Law then what did it matter to him?

“Sanji?”

Trafalgar Law stepped out of one of the doorways to the far left hand corner of the room that led to a small stairway that took you to the courtyard. The prince was wearing a simple off white cotton shirt and a pair of loose dark brown trousers which were tucked roughly into his shin height tanned leather boots. His black hair was a little ruffled and his dark skin a little flushed no doubt from all the stair climbing. The simple numerous golden piercings on both of his ears glinted ever so slightly and the prince’s sharp, pale grey eyes were regarding Sanji warmly.

Sanji made a neat little bow as he was supposed to and Law smiled and shook his head as he straightened, “No need for that.”

“Your father called for me?” Sanji asked and smiled back at his friend.

A brief moment of confusion crossed the prince’s face, followed by a bright look of recollection, “Uh, yes! I need you at the feast tonight as my representative servant. You’ll be serving me all evening.”

“I get to attend the feast?” Sanji said, surprised. He’d only ever heard about the feasts and, of course, made the food for them and even though he and Law were friends, Sanji had _never_ been invited to the feast himself before. The feast was a gathering of all of the Royal Families out of all of the regions of Blue. There was food, wines, beers, and all the entertainment you could imagine. Sanji could scarcely believe what Law was saying to him.

“Yes,” Law replied and moved over to the pile of clean clothes on the floor, rummaging through until he pulled out the most gorgeous blue fabric tunic and scarf Sanji had ever seen in life and when Law lifted them up, they looked like flowing water. The starched white trousers Law drew up next from the pile were also just as stunning. The prince passed them over and Sanji took them in his arms, “You’ll be wearing these, they’re traditional, and these too.”

Law passed over a pair of small heeled, black leather lace up boots and then a small wooden box which he snatched from its precarious placement on top of a book on the writing desk. He handed the boots over and rattled the box before passing that over too. The items inside jangled. Law nodded, “That’s all the pieces of jewellery you’ll need to wear. I trust you know where they go?”

Sanji nodded, he’d helped the other servants dress for the feast before so he knew pretty well by now where every dress piece was supposed to go. He just couldn’t believe he was finally getting the chance to wear them. He balanced all the items out in his arms and Law clicked his tongue softly, “That’ll be all, Sanji.”

Sanji bowed as far as he could without dropping anything and Law shook his head, “Stop bowing at me, you really don’t need to.”

“Thank you,” Sanji said, no, beamed, to the prince who merely shrugged and proceeded to look uncomfortable.

“You’re welcome.”

Sanji left the prince’s quarters stunned but extremely happy as he held the clothes in his arms, he was eager to wear them. He couldn’t wait for the feast.

 

* * *

 

 

The banquet hall was the second largest room in the castle next to the throne room and it was bustling with activity, the walls almost heaving with the amount of people it had to house. Hundreds of nobility; the Ladies, Lords, and some of the bourgeoisie who had bought their way into titles, had been invited, alongside the Kings and Queens of the other three kingdoms of East, South, and West. The beautiful queen and the imposing king of East Blue were sat to the right hand side of the North family, fittingly down the East side of the hall, and the other kingdoms followed suit, sat at their allocated positions.

There was loud, cheerful laughter drifting over from the opposite end of the fire pit, where the South Blue Royal family and their invitees talked loudly and freely with each other and the Eastern royals closest to them. From what Sanji could tell, the Southern Prince, Portgas Ace, was at the centre of the discussion. In comparison, the Western group was the quietest; they whispered in hushed tones amongst themselves and only spoke to the Northern servants when they desired food or drink and even then they looked uncomfortable. The King of the West sat further back from the fire, casting himself and his guardsmen into flickering shadows, and giving himself an ominous presence that clearly made every servant in the proximity wary and tense. Sanji noticed that King Corazon refrained from looking in that direction.

Sanji stood slightly behind Law, dressed in his finery and surveyed the room and the amber glow of the large fire pit that sat in front of the table where an array of meats roasted on spits and wire mesh skillets. It crackled loudly and spat up smoky embers, but still Sanji’s eyes kept going back to rulers of East Blue.

East Blue was the kingdom that favoured rune crystals and the raw power of destructive magic and physical strength. It was a beautiful kingdom, Sanji had heard, where there was always light even on the darkest of nights due to the rocky terrain being embedded with so many precious gems. And to see a warrior of East Blue fight? Zeff said that it was both the most awe inspiring and fear instilling event he had ever witnessed. Sanji wondered if they would get to see a mock battle tonight during the entertainment.

The queen sat poised and stunning in her seat, her emerald hair braided and pulled up back off her perfectly angled face. The king at her side, Koshiro, was a decorated swordsman and he had trained many of East Blue’s best swordsmen himself; the queen’s name, however, Sanji couldn’t recall. He admired the stunning crystals that had been weaved in their hair and clothing when a slightly quicker movement next to them caught his eye. It was a boy.

“That’s Roronoa Zoro, the prince of East Blue,” Law said and Sanji faltered slightly at having been caught looking, “He’s about your age, I think.”

Prince Zoro was tall for thirteen, much like Sanji was, and had inherited his mother’s dark skin and green hair, decorated with a crown made from woven strands of gold marked to look like the branches from a tree. The prince was slurping from a goblet and Sanji had to refrain from wrinkling his nose at the boy’s lack of manners.

Corazon smiled, the red decorative paint on his lips and around his mouth appearing to stretch the gesture wider, and the healing magic stored in his wrist gauntlets glowed a pale pink. He leaned over slightly to a female servant stood next to Sanji and spoke softly, “Tell our guests to have their speeches ready.” The girl nodded and darted off around the room, delivering the message. Corazon rose, his black thick feathered coat heaving up after him, and chimed his fork against his goblet, the ringing of the metal drawing everyone’s attention.

“My dear friends,” He began, “Greetings and my thanks for coming tonight to celebrate ten years of peace between us all.” There was a faint mutter of agreement amongst his audience. “I know to mark this momentous occasion that all of you have prepared speeches to commemorate those who have fallen in previous battles and to rejoice in the years of serenity and trust that has come from our treaties. Our kingdoms fought with each other for far too long and it is a reality that I regret ever happened.” There was another murmur of approval. “I hope that we will forever remain at peace with one another and use our unity to benefit each other equally.” He raised his goblet high, “To brotherhood, my friends!”

“To brotherhood!” The room chorused, their cups high. Even Prince Zoro managed to pull his face away from the wine inside long enough to make his toast. Sanji, along with all the other servants in the room made their bows and curtseys as was custom.

The room fell quiet which made the scrape of a chair all the more loud. It echoed off the walls and all turned their attention towards it. Sanji took in the sheer height of this man and felt chill run down his back at the wicked smile that was being shot their way. The man clapped slowly once... twice... three times and looked directly at Corazon. Sanji could make out the similar features, the blond cut hair, and the black wrought crown on his head. It was Doflamingo, king of West Blue... and Corazon’s younger brother.

“Beautiful,” Doflamingo sneered, “I couldn’t have said it as eloquently myself. Truly brother, you have a way with words.”

Sanji had never known silence to be so deafening. Something wasn’t right here. He looked to Law who was too busy glaring suspiciously at the other king to notice his servant. Doflamingo held the prince’s gaze with a grin.

“Ah, Prince Law, how wonderful to hear that you have almost completed your training in order to succeed my dear brother... I’m so pleased to know that what’s rightfully _mine_ is to become yours. My congratulations to you. How... _wonderful_.”

“Doflamingo...” Corazon started but the younger king held up a hand to silence him.

“I shall take my leave now, dear brother. Yet again, _child_ ,” He practically spat the word, “You have my congratulations.”

He placed down something on his plate amongst his leftovers, Sanji assumed it was another piece of food, and scraped it into the enormous fire pit himself where it burned away and he turned and left, his thick cloak of coral pink feathers trailing after him. The oak door banged shut.

Corazon immediately tended to the situation, offering his apologies on his brother’s behalf whilst guests insisted that it wasn’t his fault and that he didn’t need to be sorry at all. The West Blue table though, remained silent, sour looks on their scowling faces as they all began to stand and depart en masse from the hall and, presumably, the castle itself. Sanji knew the two kingdoms had been joined together whilst Corazon and Doflamingo’s father ruled and that it wasn’t until the king’s death that North Blue went to Corazon and West to Doflamingo, but for the past ten years the younger king had never shown bitterness or intent to take the North Blue throne too. So why now? What had changed?

A sharp glint of light drew Sanji’s attention to the fire pit that Doflamingo had scraped his food into. The fire was spitting rapidly, small purple and green sparks whizzing off at odd angles and the orange flames beginning to grow in size. Sanji squinted in confusion as a light haze began to emerge and form a small hot white orb in the flames and Sanji didn’t know what it was that Doflamingo had put into that fire, but it was not food. He looked around, trying to see if anyone had noticed what he was witnessing too and his heart leapt into his mouth when Prince Zoro’s eyes locked with his and Sanji saw the exact panic he was experiencing in those dark irises. Almost simultaneously their arms reached out for the person next to them; for Zoro his father, for Sanji it was Law. Everything was beginning to slow down. Law turned and started to speak, “What are you doing?”

Sanji’s mind went blank as he shouted out the only thing he could think of, “GET DOWN-“

 

* * *

 

 

White light. He couldn’t see. Everywhere, _everything_ , was just white like the entire world had been wiped clean and nothing existed but light and noise. A cacophony that tore into his ears and smashed a rhythm around his skull so hard it made his brain hurt. There was coolness against his right cheek and thick and heavy warmth massing itself around his left eye, and against his back he could feel nothing but scorching heat. Sanji opened his eyes but only one seemed to be capable of sight, and as both lids flickered open, a blinding pain shot down the left side of his face, making his muscles seize up. Sanji screamed like he had never done in his life and he struggled to breathe. He was going to die. Death had to be better than this nightmare of agony. He couldn’t breathe.

Darkness.

Sanji came to with a gasp, the sudden inhalation of acrid air making him hack violently. There was a numbness down the left side of his face and he could see; perfect through the right, but a washed mess through his left. Why didn’t it hurt though?

Blue light... Sanji looked at his arm from where he lay on what he realised was the stone floor of the banquet hall and watched blankly as a coil of blue light trailed up his arm, flecks of yellow wisps glowing within it. His mind began to catch up with him as he watched, Doflamingo and the fire and the explosion and the pain. He stared at the soothing, healing glow. Blue and yellow... so familiar...

Law.

At that single thought Sanji noticed the hand holding his wrist and how it connected to Law’s body and face. The prince’s eyes were barely open and his bloody lips were moving slightly and Sanji realised he was chanting a healing spell. He took in the prince’s barely conscious state. Deep gashes marred the skin of his face and there was an ugly burn around his mouth, lower jaw, and it spilled onto his neck in a bleeding mess of raw flesh. Sanji couldn’t see the rest of the damage but it didn’t take a healer to see that it was killing him.

“Law...” Sanji rasped, his voice congealed and clogged in his throat from the smoke laden air. “Law stop...”

Law didn’t seem to hear him and with the little strength he had, Sanji pushed himself up onto his arms and dragged his knees under him, all of his joints screaming in protest but he didn’t care. He couldn’t let Law do this. He wasn’t even badly hurt, Law was. He shook the prince’s hand from his arm and it fell limply to the floor. He clawed his way over to Law’s side. The prince’s hand was still spewing up magic and it was scattering wildly on the floor with nowhere to go. It attempted to attach itself to Sanji’s knees but he snatched at Law’s hand, which was heavier than he expected, in his weakened arms and lifted it to rest against Law’s marred face. Sanji choked a cough, “I-it doesn’t even hurt much anymore. You have to... heal yourself... I’m okay...”

“But...your eye-“

“It’s fine. It’s fine.”

Law’s magic latched onto his face spreading over his features which instantly began to relax as the spell began to soothe the intense pain that he was no doubt feeling. Sanji began to process the room they were in, or what remained of it anyway. The banquet hall looked like Hell itself. Splintered furniture was scattered across the floor. Bodies lay all over the place, some he recognised and some that were so badly burned he could just about make out that they were indeed humans. Or had been once.

Sanji was breathing heavily, his lungs were heavy and fire burned everywhere. Pieces of the stone walls had smashed down to the floor and Sanji didn’t want to look at them long enough to find out if anyone was under them. He wheezed and spat out a wad of phlegm that had pasted itself to his mouth. He tasted blood.

“Law? Law, we have to go.”

The prince murmured something but it was slurred, blood was beginning to pool on the floor from out of his parted lips. Sanji shook him lightly, “Law... Law, come on...”

Law was becoming unresponsive and Sanji began to tear up from the realisation that this couldn’t mean anything good for Law. He began to cry, “Please... You have to get up.”

Law’s hand fell back to the floor but the magic had latched and ran up his arm instead, curling around his whole body as it worked his way into all the wounds that Sanji couldn’t see. Wiping his uninjured eye with his sleeve, Sanji unbuckled the cloak from around his neck and grabbed at Law’s arms and pulled with all he had. Sanji moved and placed the prince’s arms over his shoulders and hooked Law’s legs over his arms. He spied Law’s crown on the ground near them and snatched it up, it didn’t feel right to leave it here. It took a lot of effort but finally he pulled Law up onto his back with only a small scream of pain. Everything in his body burned, crying out for mercy, begging him not to do this, but Sanji couldn’t give up now. They were alive and they had to get out of there.

His legs trembled with every step and the air was denser and his chest heaved painfully with every ragged breath he took. Sweat plastered his face and his head spun wildly. Law was a dead weight on his back and it felt like it was breaking every bone in Sanji’s body just to hold him up. It felt like an eternity but a huge hole in the wall was in sight, the view of the night sky and fresh air a blessing just within reach.

“MOM! DAD!” A young voice screamed to the left of them. Sanji turned his head to see Prince Zoro clinging to what remained of his father by the arm as he wailed inconsolably. He was bleeding from a gash on his forehead. Sanji wanted to help but already voices were calling out for the young prince and he assumed that they were guards that had somehow survived the explosion. He shuffled on; he had to get Law out to fresh air.

Leaving Zoro’s screams behind them, Sanji stepped out of chaos into the still of the night. The castle wall here backed onto the slope of the mountains under a cover of thick pine trees and snow. Sanji almost dropped the prince when a loud screech split through his ears.

Law was screaming, not moving, just screaming so painfully raw that it sent fear jolting through Sanji’s veins and every instinct told him to bolt until he saw exactly what the prince was screaming at.

Corazon.

Or at least the top half of him anyway.

Sanji almost toppled them over in his desperate bid to scramble away from that mess of a person. Corazon’s eyes were open, cold and dead, and they stared at Sanji, straight into his mind and burned in an image he’d never forget. Law cried hoarsely in despair, “CORA! NO!!”

Sanji felt a mixed mess of tears, saliva, and blood against his neck; Law hadn’t the energy to even raise his own head. He could feel the prince’s chest heave tumultuously with every sob and knew that there was nothing he could say, nothing he could do to ever console his friend and he stood there helpless for a while, staring at the bloodied snow until the sound of hundreds of heavy boots in constant footfall caught his attention.

An army. But whose?

He thought of everything Doflamingo had said at the feast and stood shivering in the carnage he had created. It had to be his army, come to claim the North Blue throne. Sanji was terrified, he wanted his old man, he wanted Zeff- he’d know what to do. But Zeff wasn’t here and Sanji was injured and bleeding and dithering in the cold and Law was rendered useless. Sanji was alone.

He started to cry again but bit the inside of his cheek hard. He couldn’t cry yet, he had to get Law to safety, he could almost hear the old man now telling him to go. Sanji sniffed and blinked away the tears as Law’s screaming began to tire and became feeble moans and whimpers. Sanji awkwardly adjusted his grip on the prince and slipped into the tree line, heading for an old worn footpath the kitchen staff used when they were sent to gather berries or kindling. He began a painful and gruelling ascent up the nearest summit, his feet struggling for grip as he walked, and he resorted to using the faint glow of Law’s healing magic to search for footholds and more even ground until they came up to a small clearing cut into the side of the rock face where he paused momentarily to catch his breath. He hacked up more phlegm and his chest burned with the effort.

“Cora-“ Law sobbed into Sanji’s shoulder and Sanji could no longer tell what was tears and what was blood coming from the prince’s face. Sanji tightened his grip on Law’s legs, squeezing them reassuringly, but Sanji couldn’t tell if Law could even feel it his arms were so weak, his knees were almost buckling to carry him on his back as it already was.

Sanji turned his head slightly as he and Law trembled on the mountain slope, Sanji bleeding, aching, and half blind and Law possibly dying, he watched. He watched North Blue, the castle... their _home_... burn.

They’d lost everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it!! The prologue is done! Did we surprise you? ;D
> 
> It won't all be angst and sadness, I promise.
> 
> If you want to follow our fic's blog for more updates, head to mossyprinceau.tumblr.com  
> Yep, the original name for the fic was Mossy Prince AU.
> 
> Anyway, head on over there and give it a follow to check out some cool character designs, Admin art by Kaiisan (me and Mustangisinflames!! As well as art we commission, and stuff we reblog to use for references and culture ideas.
> 
> See you next month! :D


	2. Eight Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eight years later...
> 
> In which East Blue is coming into early Spring, markets are a nest of greedy merchants, and a simple market thief finds himself in trouble.

‘ _There’s a fresh breeze this morning_ ’, Sanji noted as it gently brushed against his face and ran slightly chilled fingers through his long hair. The few sparse leaves that somehow had managed not to rot completely over the winter were scattered at his feet and skittered whenever the wind blew up strong enough to push them against the mottled square spire of the old church he sat on the roof of. The air was crisp and his breath fogged slightly as he breathed, coiling like dragon’s smoke. Spring had started to make a shy and long awaited appearance throughout the land; the snow was starting to melt away, the sun shone more often than not, and the spring herbs and plants had begun to shoot up in abundance. For someone who was used to snowstorms and icy rainfall for most of the year, Sanji found some humour in the Easterners lack of resistance to the current weather which to him was so mild compared to the North. Most still wore their winter cloaks: the thick fleece of their collars upturned to trap the warmth around their throats; whilst he himself donned only his light cloth shirt and trousers, plus a sleek deerskin cloak to take the edge off the early morning rain that had occurred a few hours previous.

From his vantage point on the roof Sanji observed the marketplace sprawled out below, the cobblestone streets full of activity and noise. The cloth stalls were clustered together in an explosion of colour, selling an array of winter and spring goods including, to his surprise, imported foods from South Blue- an upper class luxury that not many towns could achieve. This settlement in particular was at the edge of the New Town suburbs, where the majority of dwellers were upper-middle-class or high class citizens, and the few families that were lower than middle class struggled to get by. The difficulty for the poor came from the market stalls who sold their goods at higher prices than they could often afford, and bartering with such low status customers was not welcome practice.

Hoards of people crowded the cobblestone streets, children weaving in between skirts and stall tables shrieking with laughter, all the while stallholders called out their deals of the day, a cacophony of gruff voices, all varying in pitch but all constantly loud. A patrol of East Blue soldiers made their way up and down the market road with authority in their rigid posture and composed, stern-looking faces. The three of them were regular to the town; Sanji knew; residing at the local militia base, and one wearing medallions that meant a higher position he couldn’t place a name to, but he knew that his presence meant one thing in particular: The Prince would be joining them at some point this morning. Sanji smiled a little deviously to himself in piqued interest and watched the guard’s procession continue down the road.

Prince Roronoa Zoro, the Heir to East Blue, often surrounded himself with the people he would one day come to rule over, as a symbol of support and strength and thus making himself a living embodiment of the word ‘community’. He was dedicated to his country, and ensured that he was always personally involved with local festivities, traditions and regular patrol groups such as today. But what was particularly interesting was that the Prince never usually travelled this far from the castle/main city, meaning only one thing: the Prince must have heard about his activities in the market places lately. Sanji’s smile widened.

The soldiers had noticed his perch on the rooftop a while ago, and every once and while they glanced back at him, keeping an eager eye on his actions. Sanji wasn’t concerned by it; it was no crime to sit on rooftops and smoke a pipe after all. Grinning around the mouthpiece of his cow bone pipe, he waved idly at one of the soldiers; a young one who turned to watch him more frequently than the others. The young man jumped a little in surprise, then turned back to face his patrol group, who had started to walk around the corner without him.

He tapped his pipe against the slate roof underneath him, emptying it out before storing it away in his canvas bag. He stood upright with a grunt but found his footing with ease. Adjusting his balance, he shifted forward and slid down the rooftop away from the market stalls, dropping down into an alley with only a slight noise, his knees cushioning the impact. The stones slick beneath the soles of his boots he looked up and down the alleyway he had dropped into, his sight adjusting to the darkness after having sat in the sun.

It was a quiet lane and a few children milled about idly, kicking a lumpy little ball against the wall their faces thin and eyes tired. Suddenly one child, a little boy, caught sight of him and gasped, his eyes significantly lighting up with excitement. He abandoned the group and ball and it was a few seconds before the gaggle of children all began to notice and blink at Sanji owlishly, curious.

“It’s the Dark Prince!” One of the boys gasped, tugging on another’s sleeve rapidly as he pointed at Sanji’s light blonde hair, which was an uncommon sight in this country where complexions were darker and so was hair. The boys whispered and mumbled to each other as they stared at him, wondering whether or not to get closer like a herd of startled deer.

“Is that what people call me here?” asks the blond with a chuckle as he smoothed his long, tangled fringe over his left eye and a warm smile softened his features.

“So you are the Dark Prince?” Asked the tallest boy, a skinny youth with scruffy black hair and scuffed scabby knees stood in front of his friends warily, locking eyes with him without looking away. Sanji noticed the way he favoured protecting the smallest boy who had similar features. He assumed that they must be brothers or of some relation to one another.

“Only at night,” Sanji smirked, hunkering down slightly so that he was at eye level with the oldest boy, who was still some feet away.

“The Dark Prince only takes from the rich and greedy! He gives food and money to the poor!” The littlest boy whispered, in awe, unable to stop his mouth from hanging open in wonder.

“Yes, that’s what I do.” Sanji laughed slightly but then gave them a warning look, “Though during the day, I’m just an ordinary thief, okay? If the guard finds out what the Dark Prince looks like I could get in trouble, and I won’t be able to help anyone then.”

The rest of the boys nodded, drinking in every word. The oldest however seemed to remain sceptical.

“So, were you the one who gave us that parcel of stew and dumplings during the big snowfall a few weeks ago?” He asked lowly, the cogs in his mind seeming to whir with thoughts as he connected the pieces together, “And that pouch of silver and bronze coins?” Sanji grinned knowingly in response and the boy’s eyes finally widened with recognition. He took a few tentative steps before running over and threw his arms around the blond in a rush of little limbs. Sanji’s surprise only lasted a moment, before he comforted the boy with a hand, brushing his dark locks gently, his other arm stretched out in time for the younger boy and the other three to crowd around him in a flurry of giggles and whispers of gratitude.

“Mama was sick and couldn’t go buy food after that snowfall,” The eldest sniffed into his right ear. “The stew lasted five days, even with all of us! And we could buy her medicine with the money, too. You really saved her!”

“I’m glad to hear she’s okay,” he replied, continuing to tousle the boy’s hair. “You did well to look after her.” With that, Sanji pulled back, letting the kids tug on his sleeves and trousers as he stretched his back lightly.

“Right! So, who would like to help me?” he announced brightly, a smirk dawned on his face as the boys cheered, eagerly wishing to be picked.

“Well, it looks like I have a lot of volunteers!” Sanji said, digging a hand into his trouser pocket to reveal a big pouch of coins. “Let’s see, what about... one gold coin each?”

The children gasped in surprise as he placed a coin each into their outstretched palms. The boys informed him that they were in groups of brothers, which meant, much to their delight, that each of their families would get a couple of gold coins per child.

“What do you want us to do?” The eldest grinned eagerly, his distrust seemingly long forgotten.

Sanji cleared his throat, “There’s a patrol of soldiers not too far down the market lane, I want you to keep them distracted for me,” he instructed, hands on his hips. “The market holders here are selling their goods way too expensively, so I’m going to teach them a lesson... and get some food for myself too of course,” he winked cheekily, making the children laugh. “Just ask them lots of questions, pull on their sleeves, talk to them about anything and everything, just make sure they all pay attention to you.”

“Yes, sir!” the boys jeered.

“Just remember, don’t say anything about me, okay? I’m just a market thief.”

Giggling, the boys rushed out from the alleyway and into the marketplace, fanning out to widen their patrol of the area. The older boy nodded seriously, before joining them.

Sanji paused at the mouth of the alley, glancing out to where he last saw the guards. They were set back to the far side of the road distracted by the cunning children running around them and asking them silly questions. Silently, he slipped into the crowds, moving fluidly from stall to stall, slipping items of food into his bag unnoticed. He flowed easily through the gathered people, never too close to the stalls to be seen and never in an area too open to leave him vulnerable. As he reached the furthest end of the market street, he overheard an argument between a baker and a woman.

“For the last time, you filthy wretch, it’s seven silvers for a loaf of bread! You either pay up or you clear off!”

“B-but sir, I have two young boys to feed! I only have three silvers to spend on food this week, I can’t afford to not buy the bread!” the woman cried helplessly, trying desperately to barter with the stubborn man. It was an act that would unfortunately get her nowhere with such a vile man.

The loaf in question wasn’t a particularly special kind of bread, Sanji thought. It was as long as his forearm, slightly burnt at the top, but not an imperfection that the poor woman and her children would fuss about. The baker was a lard of a man, sweat stains already forming on his straining shirt, and his skin and hands were appallingly clean for someone who supposedly woke before dawn to bake such goods. If Sanji were to guess, it would be that the man’s wife was the real baker, and yet here the pig of a man was collecting the money for it.

A turbulent wave of anger swelled like a storm in the pit of his stomach, as he watched this woman beg for charity from the greedy stall holder. His class was clearly higher than hers when Sanji compared the clothing the two wore. She was donned in plain clothes, hand-stitched patches covered tears and holes in her skirt, and she wore the thinnest, worn-out boots Sanji had ever seen at this time of year. She was clearly shivering, her hair was matted, and the knitted scarf around her neck was falling apart too.

She turned her face to cough away from the stall, coincidentally making her features clear to Sanji instead, and that was when he recognised her as the mother of the eldest boy and the youngest from the alleyway whom he’d been talking to earlier. She was still clearly unwell, and yet was still trying to look out for her boys. Seeing her struggle only fuelled his anger further but he pushed it down and forced his politest smile.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear,” he began, gently resting a soothing hand on the woman’s back to ease her cough. “That this woman is interested in buying a loaf of bread from you sir. Is that correct?”

“She’s not got enough money to buy my bread, so I’m trying to tell her to clear off,” The man grunted and he narrowed his eyes, his gaze suspicious of the man before him. “Seven silvers, and not a single coin less!”

“And you only have three, is that correct ma'am?” Sanji murmured quietly to the woman, who nodded, eyes wet with tears. He turned to face the supposed baker again, his eyes harsh.

“Sir, have you any idea how it feels to starve?” he asked, abrupt.

The man’s eyes bulged. “Are you doubting my status?” he snapped angrily.

“No, I have no doubt of that,” Sanji muttered, eyes flicking over the man’s large belly. “I’m asking if you’ve ever gone days without being able to eat.”

The man snapped his jaw silently, the answer hung in the air between them obviously, like an open wound.

“It starts slowly. You feel a little hungry, sure, then it subsides a little before you start to feel hungry again, and it feels like there’s nothing here-” he gestured to his own stomach, “-at all. Just emptiness. It goes away, eventually, after a few hours.” The baker’s eyes drift to his own stomach in thought. “And then it begins to _hurt_.”

“It keeps you awake at night, that aching pain. An empty ache and knowing that you’ll never be able to fill it. Water does nothing to help, in fact, it makes you feel worse. It eventually gets bad enough that you throw up the bile in your stomach and then there’s really nothing left, is there?” His words were cold, much like his eyes, but the stiff, pleasant smile remained on his mouth as he spoke, making him appear even more threatening and his words even grimmer.

“After a few days-” The man winced at the word as though just the idea alone of waiting that long for food physically pained him. Yet Sanji continued, “The ache stops, and instead there is just pain as your stomach has started to eat itself, just for _something_ to eat.” He kept his smile calm as he leaned forward, an imposing figure, and forced the man’s attention on him.

“Do you have a wife, sir? Any kids?”

“Y-Yes,” The man stuttered, shying away from him. “A-and a daughter, six years old!”

Sanji smiled sweetly. “What a tender age...” His visible blue eye narrowed, the left shrouded by his fringe but no doubt mirroring the right. “Now, imagine _her_ starving.”

The man grimaced, his entire body shaking at that jarring thought that jolted his mind. Sanji spoke so easily about starvation, like he was remembering a long lost friend. The blond became aware that the woman next to him was shaking, not just from the cold but also from sobs, what he spoke of hitting raw nerves. Sanji knew from experience as much as she did.

“Y-you!” The man spluttered, pointing at him with a quivering fat hand. “What the hell is your problem, playing cruel mind games with me?”

“Mind games?” Sanji tilted his head innocently, but his expression betrayed him and his lip curled in a snarl. “Starving is no mind game, you greedy, selfish old man! Innocent people, suffer from on a daily basis because of people like you- selling food for outrages prices!” He fought the urge to raise his voice any father, instead keeping a semi-level tone that was strained and glared down at the other man, who had become rooted to the spot in fear. “How would you feel if your wife and child starved? Went without food for days on end because you couldn’t afford to buy anything? Would you not feel helpless, watching them waste away, unable to do anything..?” His voice went lower the more his anger rose. Sanji didn’t know how it had happened but he was half leaning across the stall now, his hands fisted as they supported his weight. If he had wanted to he could have grabbed a fistful of the man’s shirt and dragged him forward. The man had his back to the wall now, balked and equally as furious as Sanji, his small eyes were watery and the fat of his cheeks were bright red. Sanji needed to step off before this became an issue that would no doubt attract the guards. He breathed and pushed himself back from the table, a faint stinging in his knuckles. He looked briefly at the slightly scuffed skin and cursed himself silently; he shouldn’t be doing that to his hands. His icy glare found the stallholder again and his snarl twisted into an uncomfortable looking smile.

“That, _sir_ , is the pain you cause to every family who can’t afford the bread that you bake.” Sanji sneered, his voice eventually returning to its original, light-hearted tone. “So how about you sell the loaf of bread to this kind woman for one silver, and throw in a couple sweet pastries for her poor, hungry young boys? Then let her be on her way.”

The man tried to protest but Sanji glowered, breaking his calm composure once more, “Let’s not cause a scene, shall we?” he gestured to the leather dagger holster attached to his belt with a simple tilt of his head. The merchant’s eyes followed and he paused, swallowing dryly at the weapon. He deflated and nodded silently, preparing the bread and pastries and the woman tugged at Sanji’s shirt.

“Thank you,” she cried, “Thank you, thank you.”

“Think nothing of it, my dear.” He smiled reassuringly, softly grasping the woman’s hands with his own and squeezing gently.

Dejected, the man held the parcel of food over his stall, and the lady took it quickly as though she’d believe it would vanish if she were any slower, and replaced it with a single silver coin in a flash. The baker stared at it, evidently still thinking about the blonds’ words.

“Sir,” Sanji said, making the other man startle. “If I ever hear that you sell your goods at such prices again, know that I won’t be as civil next time.”

The man nodded hastily, making Sanji grin.

“Good, that’s settled! I’ll be taking these, as a reward for all that advice I gave you!” He grabbed a loaf of bread and a sweet pastry, shoving them into his bag with glee when the stallholder seemed to find his voice and began to yell.

“Thief! A thief is here! Guards! Guards!”

“ _Shit_ ,” Sanji cursed and looked back towards the patrol of soldiers at the end of the street who had heard the man’s cries and were struggling to move, the children still clutching at their uniforms stubbornly and tripping them up. There was a hint of green hair amongst them, and Sanji realised with a sudden dread that the Prince must have arrived to meet the patrol while he was busy with the merchant. They made eye contact for a moment, dark brown meeting blue, and Sanji smirked, deliberately holding up his bag bulging with stolen goods. The Prince’s eyes widened for a second before narrowing in anger, and he pried the boy’s hands off him and started to sprint towards him.

Sanji turned on his heel and bolted, dodging between the people in the street easily as they gasped and stumbled to get out of his way. He was naturally light-footed and agile, and years of practise had made him a hard target to catch. The Prince of East Blue was the only one to have ever come close and it looked like today would be another close call.

He slipped into a quieter street, listening for the footfalls behind him as the Prince caught up quickly. There was a scrape of steel and Sanji leapt to the side as a sword swept the space he’d previously stood in. He hurried to get away as Zoro, brandishing his blade, stepped into the street Sanji had tried to make his escape in.

“Stop, thief!” Zoro barked and Sanji smiled as the Prince’s eyes landed on his face and lit up with recognition, “ _You_.”

Sanji cooed, “I’m so flattered you’d care to remember, my lord.”

Sanji scuffed the soles of his boots on the cobblestones, the sound of the tough bound leather he’d worked onto them scraping against the ground.

Zoro poised his sword, the light that reflected off it glimmering back in his dark eyes and his strong jaw tightened in determination. Sanji would have made a comment on his handsome features if he weren’t so sure that doing so would result in Zoro impaling him on the weapon. Suddenly Zoro lunged.

Sanji was fast to react and swung his leg up to meet him in an effective parry. They held strong and Sanji could see Zoro’s arm shaking a little with the effort of holding it in such a position. Sanji grunted a little in response but kept his leg locked. With the grace of a master swordsman, Zoro grabbed the hilt with both hands and drew back, almost knocking Sanji off balance, and brought his blade up once more. Sanji recovered quickly and the sole of his boot clashed with the Prince’s sword again and again, his rapid movements not allowing his opponent to draw his second -or third- sword. Sanji had learned from that mistake. Zoro had regained his upper body strength now and Sanji was beginning to feel the punishment of it in the power of his swings as they fought.

He backed off and ducked into a dirt road at the very edge of town now, having slowly moved the fight further away from the town centre in between blows. A wall was a few feet away behind him, and behind it, a thick tangle of woodland with no designated road through it. He had only a short moment to escape into those woods, and it was getting shorter every second as the closer the other soldiers came to joining their fight.

As if on cue, there was a sharp shout from an arriving soldier and it distracted Zoro momentarily, his swing faltering. An uncommon mistake from the Prince. Sanji seized the opportunity and dug the toe of his boots into the loose dirt in front of him, kicking up a large spray of earth into the Prince’s face, blinding him long enough to spring up onto the high stone wall and drop into the woods on the other side.

“Better luck next time, my lord!” Sanji called over his shoulder triumphantly, and he barely heard the Prince cursing over the peals of his own laughter.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was setting as Sanji picked his way through the mountainside. The sound of rustling branches overhead and melodic birds amongst the foliage surrounding him. It was a long walk from New Town to the place he called home, and the bag slung across his torso weighed heavily on his left shoulder. So much so, that he had to pause for a moment, and lift the bag up and over his head, and around onto his other shoulder. He pulled the neck of his shirt back to inspect his stinging skin and noted the redder than usual appearance from the pressure. He reminded himself to treat that when he got back.

A few ledges of steep mountainside later, Sanji slipped into a small cave entryway about halfway up the smallest of the several mountains that the East Blue castle was built into. It was more of a hill than anything but steep enough to deter any unwelcome visitors. He was a little north of the castle itself, and out of the way of any patrol routes. In fact, anyone not as athletic as him would have struggled to reach the narrow crevice in the rock wall that acted as the front door to his ‘home’.

Embedded crystals glowed from the walls in varying clusters of many colours, all of them working to faintly light the way through the narrow passageways, leading Sanji deep into the body of the mountain itself, until the path finally widened out to about three-person’s-width as the tunnel reached the area Sanji occupied the most. Further down the tunnel, branched out several smaller paths that led to other caves that Sanji had utilised for one reason or another, however it was the cave that Sanji walked into now that he most considered home.

It was the biggest cave in the tangled network of tunnels- Sanji had noticed this during his first adventure in the caves- and it also contained the majority of his necessities and personal effects. Large ethereal yellow crystals were contained in lanterns hung from metal hooks driven into the walls; Sanji having set them up after he realised that they were better at lighting the cave than a regular oil lantern. A couple of pallets covered in rags and animal skins formed his bed along one wall, and a small table and chair sat in the middle of the space. Shelves carved directly out of the rock- a job that had taken Sanji months- took up the entire wall opposite his makeshift bed and, at the far end of the room, Sanji had meticulously carved out a space for a fireplace from a crack in the wall where a draft bringing fresh air into the cave had been, allowing smoke to escape without filling the room. On the left of it, a large battered oak trunk took up the remaining space between the fireplace and the pallets, and on the right a miniscule preparation table stood against the shelved wall on slightly uneven legs, along with a sturdy wooden stool to reach the higher shelves. Several hanging ropes were tied onto hooks from the ceiling, where various cooking instruments hung neatly out of the way, as well as smaller strands of twine with root vegetables tied onto them, a faint but pleasant smell of onions permeated the air. Above his head, one rope had several items of clothing hanging up to dry.

Sanji shrugged off his bag and set it on the table, stretching out his aching back and arms and removing his hair tie to allow his loose half-up ponytail to come tumbling in wild waves and kinks around his nape. He shed the deerskin cloak from his shoulders and folded it neatly putting it away in the trunk. Unpacking the food he collected today, Sanji set aside a couple of vegetables for supper and stored away the rest of the food on the shelves of the wall beside him. The caves stayed surprisingly dry so there was no need worry about spoilage.

He took a jar and a small bowl from the top shelf. The label reading in a slanted scrawl, “Calendula, Second Summer Batch”. He smiled to himself as he thought of the days that Law had spent teaching him how to forage and store it correctly... but that was a long time ago now. From the bottom shelf, he grabbed a medium-sized pot and filled it with a couple inches of rainwater from a beech cask next to the fireplace. He took a moment to light the fire, and once satisfied by the crackling tendrils of flame and feeding more logs on he slid a thin slab of slate over the fire and hooking it along the ledges of the fireplace. He set the pot on top, shifted another chunk of slate in place in order to encase the fire under the pot and heat the water. He turned back to opening the jar and poured a small amount into the bowl, allowing some of the soaked flower heads and petals spill in as well. He sealed it tight and returned it to its rightful place on the top shelf.

As soon as the water became pleasantly warm, Sanji relieved the pot from the fire and poured some of the water into the bowl with the oil before returning it to the makeshift stove. He gathered a pestle from his small box of cutlery and crushed the flowers and oil into the hot water, infusing everything further whilst stretching the portion out to larger amount. He left it to cool a little and then moved on to making his dinner.

He washed the leeks, celery and carrots that he’d stolen earlier as well as a few of the potatoes he still had stored away. He sliced two chunks of butter from the half-a-bar he had left and melted it in the pot, putting it only partially over the fire. He then chopped up the leeks and celery and added them to the melted butter, stirring until the mixture became soft. He skinned the potatoes, wincing at the flare in his scraped knuckles, and set the skins aside for another recipe. He diced the potatoes and rest of the vegetables, then searched his shelves for a jar of vegetable broth. He poured a generous amount of it into the pot, adding the potatoes and carrots in afterwards with two pinches of salt and a bay leaf. He pushed the pot over to sit directly over the fire again and brought it all to boil. Once the remaining vegetables had softened, he removed the bay leaf and used a carved flat spoon to manually blend all the vegetables together until smooth. He then added a dash of cream - bought from a local village just the other day- and stirred it into the mix, moving the pot to the edge of the heated slab to allow it to simmer a while.

As he waited he grabbed a small rag and took the bowl of Calendula ointment with him as he exited the main cave, wandering further down the passageway into another, smaller opening, also lit by glowing gems that blossomed from the walls and the water in this cave helped to reflect it, intensifying the pale blue hue. A small, steady stream of water flowed from a crevice in the roof, creating a knee-high pool of lukewarm water at the deeper end of the cave. Sanji usually came to bathe but this time on a quick rinse was required. After all, it was the Prince who’d got mud in his face, not him.

He stripped quickly, setting his clothes and the bowl and rag to the side and splashed into the water, hastily trying to warm up under its flow. He scrubbed lightly at his hair, not bothering to use any of his homemade shampoos or body oils this time and scratched the dirt from under his nails, washing under his arms lightly before stepping out from under the water again. He dried off quickly to avoid losing any more body heat, using a long cloth towel he kept in the cave. He slipped on his underwear, but forwent his shirt and trousers.

Sitting down cross-legged, the Sanji inspected the inflamed skin on his left shoulder. The burns he had since the incident had fully healed as best they could long ago, still Law insisted to regularly apply the healing ointment on them whenever he could. It wasn’t having a visible effect but Law had told him that this was not its purpose but rather to toughen the layers of damaged nerves and stop the pain, reducing sensitivity. He dipped the rag into the ointment and massaged it into his left shoulder from top to bottom in soothing circles. He continued on to the top of his bicep, then along the side of his ribs to his left hip, where the burns continued in a writhing mass of criss-crossed lines. He used his thumbs to work the flesh of his left thigh, ensuring the ointment was absorbed into his skin properly. The burns on his thigh and shoulder remained the most healed as Law had put what little energy he'd had left into the healing spells required to undo most of the damage, the prince having convinced Sanji to go through with it when they realised that one of them needed to hunt for food. Finally, he submerged the rag into the remaining mixture and, with one hand pulling his fringe away from his face, placed it against ruined skin on the left side of his face.

The vegetable soup was ready by the time he came back, dry and dressed in his string-tied trousers, upper body bare until he slipped on a fleece-lined tunic, a gift given to him a long time ago that still seemed to fit. He shifted the pot off of the makeshift stove and onto the small preparation table next to the shelving, and scooped a bowlful of the soup into a clean dish. He moved the slabs away from the fire carefully, allowing the heat of the flames to spread into the room and warm him up. He took up the bowl and a spoon and sat at the table in the centre of the cave on the side that was closest to the fire. His bag was still on the table, the sweet pastry he stole earlier sitting atop of it. He decided he would have it for dessert. While eating he made a note of how much food he had in stock and what ingredients he needed to collect the next time he went to the market. After cleaning his bowls and cutlery and storing away the leftover soup he finally headed to bed, nestling down among the soft furs and straw.

 

* * *

 

 

It was a few days later that Sanji returned to New Town under the darkness of the night. Ink black clothing covered him from head to toe, save for the slightly torn blue scarf tied around his neck in order to keep his hood upright over his face. He crouched on top of the high outer wall of the town, waiting in silence for someone to arrive.

He didn’t have to wait long.

Another figure hunkered down on the wall next to him, lithe legs dangling as she settled beside him. The giveaway curves of femininity defined in tight, black silks and dark hardened leathers. Glints of silver danced on her fingertips as she adjusted her hood and mask, the metal caps over her fingers ending in sharp claw-like tips.

“Cat Thief,” Sanji murmured as a greeting.

“Dark Prince,” A smooth and sultry tone replied and Sanji didn’t have to look to know that she was smiling; he could hear it in the lilt of her voice. There was barely a glimmer of her skin to be seen and her identity remained a complete mystery to him. The meetings between them occurred twice a month at different wealthy towns throughout East Blue, where the pair would raid a target chosen by her for reasons Sanji had very limited knowledge of but the targets were always overly-wealthy Lords and diplomats so the cut between the duo was good. The blond felt no guilt for their target’s losses.

“Thirty seven. A West Blue diplomat. He has been arrested twice for the harassment of underage girls and once for harassment of a young boy,” The petite woman shuddered in disgust before continuing. “He was released some hours after each arrest with no charges. He pays no rent, no bills, and has a horse and carriage.”

“Wandering hands should be restrained...” Sanji said lowly, biting down on his smoking pipe, a different one to the intricately carved one he uses during the day, but rather a long, dark wood pipe with metal melted into the features and mouthpiece. The Cat Thief grunted in agreement. With a quick motion, he tugged the bowl from the stem to reveal the thin, slightly smoking blade that was hidden within.

A humourless giggle was her only response to the weapon. She adjusted her stance accordingly and kicked off the wall, landing on a rooftop below.

“Well, Master Prince? There are only so many hours in the night.” She cooed.

With a grin, Sanji leapt down onto the shingles after his mysterious companion.

 

* * *

 

 

Normally, Sanji never visited a marketplace so soon after any thieving antics out of fear of being spotted, but whilst on his way to a different market a rumour met his ears. Apparently, for the limited time of one hour, a small stall in a close by market was going to be selling a rare spiced wine, imported in specifically from South Blue. Even though the market was so close to his last raid, Sanji was tempted by the thought of the delicious luxury he had the opportunity to get his hands on. It was a true moment of weakness.

He suspected he had found said stall when he when his attention was drawn to a small crowd surrounding a table, where lovely bronzed bottles sat atop it proudly, shining in the sun. The vendor was talking animatedly to the masses, holding up one of the bottles and describing it in excruciating detail. To Sanji’s surprise there was a mixed amount of class in the crowd, with middle and lower class men standing amongst the rich.

That really should have been his first warning.

He curiously edged closer, standing hesitantly at the back of the crowd to listen in, hoping to recognise the makers of the wine and what ingredients it was made with. He slotted into place beside a man in bulky clothing who was messing around with a few coins in his hands. Sanji sighed, he could see very little from this viewpoint and, as he moved to push through the crowd, a hand landed on his left shoulder and gripped hard. Sanji felt his blood turn to ice and the weight of the hand suddenly became like lead. Fingers dug into his collarbone, and Sanji almost hissed at the pain that sent through his scarred, over sensitive skin.

“It seems this thief has a taste for fine wine, boys.”

A familiar, and now smug, voice from behind him made him tense all the more and before he could even blink, the ‘middle-class men’ in front of him turned and grabbed his arms, restraining him effectively. Sanji stared in a mix of horror and shock at all the faces of the soldiers he’d come to see frequenting the market places. The hand on his shoulder moved to his chin and yanked his head round sharply.

Blue eyes met cocky golden-brown ones.

“Thanks for wishing me luck the other day,” Prince Zoro smirked, “Though perhaps you should have saved it for yourself?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the response we received on the prologue! We even got a lovely piece of fan art too?? :O Amazing! Thank you all so much!
> 
> This chapter was written by Kaiisan and beta-d by the both of us. The art was by mustangisinflames.
> 
> We hope you enjoyed the chapter and we'll be back again on September 1st!
> 
> If you'd like, we have a blog you can follow on Tumblr in which you can keep up with updates, see some world building and inspirations for the fic and even some art from either the authors or readers. You can follow here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mossyprinceau
> 
> Thanks for reading! :D
> 
> \- mustangisinflames & Kaiisan x


	3. An Inspiration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sanji is imprisoned, Zoro is inspired, and Law is just trying to live a peaceful life without his friend messing up constantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the positive feedback thus far, we are both so grateful to everyone who has read/commented/left kudos/bookmarked this fic, it is so nice to see people enjoying what we've enjoyed writing! As always, if you want to keep on top of updates, references and art, give us a follow on Tumblr at our joint blog 'mossyprinceau': https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mossyprinceau
> 
> Thank you once again and please enjoy the chapter!
> 
> mustangisinflames and Kaiisan

_(8 Years Ago)_

_“We should go back,” Law urged as the forest began to swallow them whole. Sanji almost startled upon hearing the other boy’s voice. The prince hadn’t spoken since he had awoken from his injuries and that had been more than three days ago._

_Sanji stared at him, “We can’t.”_

_The prince looked as though he were about to argue but seemed to think better of it and retract whatever statement he’d been about to make. Sanji said nothing, he understood. They couldn’t go back. Even if they did, where would they go? They had nothing but the burnt rags on their backs and the crown tucked away in Sanji’s scarf. There was no way but forward._

_Law shrugged his tattered shawl up and pulled the fabric across the lower half of his face with shaky hands. Sanji pretended to ignore the large mass of burns across the other’s face, the skin raised and gnarled, tainted red from their freshness. The prince said nothing more and Sanji took it as an indication to keep walking._

_The cold had been biting at him for so long now that Sanji thought he may never experience warmth ever again. His fingers kept locking and his knees stiffening, pronouncing his recently received limp that affected his left leg. Yet he supposed he should feel somewhat grateful, the icy air so numbing that he could no longer feel the severe pain across the left side of his face, it having receded into a faint throb. He still could not see well out of that eye, the world a smeared mess of colour whenever he attempted to rely on it, but he said nothing to Law about it._

_There was a tension between them now that there had never been back at the castle, before... before...Law suddenly stumbled next to him on a loose drift of snow and fell down heavily. Sanji rushed to his aid as fast as his leg would allow. The prince was lying on his side and trembling like a leaf, “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?” Sanji turned him over, Law offering no resistance and saw that his prince was not injured (any more than he already was), he was_ crying _._

_Law was sobbing wholeheartedly, his mangled face smeared with snow from the fall and one of the blisters on his jaw had cracked open a bloody mess. Sanji had never seen anyone so forlorn, so overcome by grief and his heart ached with a want to help, “What’s wrong? I don’t know-“_

_“I want to go home, Sanji...” Law cried, “I know I can’t, but I want to anyway.”_

_Sanji sighed and sat down in the cold snow next to him, eventually Law found the will to sit up as well. They sat in silence for a while with the trees watching over them like diligent guardians and soon Law was shaking for a different reason as the chill took a hold of him. Sanji would have encouraged them both to look for dry wood for a fire were it not a risk to giving away their location to enemies and wolves alike. They would have to make do with what little clothes they had left._

_So much had happened the past few days that Sanji was uncertain if anything would be the same again. He watched Law dithering next to him, a hollow look on his burned face, and got to his feet. Someone had to take control. He dusted himself down and lifted the prince to his feet by the arm, “Come on,” He instructed, using a tone of voice he had learnt from Zeff when the old man was trying to get order in the kitchens, “We’ll find some shelter and rest. I’ll take first watch.”_

_Law didn’t seem to acknowledge the words but he followed Sanji anyway with exhausted eyes and tired feet without a word of complaint._

_The forest was more intense as night fell and Sanji was beginning to see eerie shapes in the dark, all of them resembling the monsters from the tales the scullery maids would tell the children as they scrubbed the floors clean. He tried to bear them no mind but they were everywhere he looked and soon he was beginning to shake not only from the cold. The odd silence between him and the prince was as tight as an archer's bowstring and Sanji was nervous that it would become taut enough to snap in two._

_He wasn’t sure how long they had walked for but it was fully dark by the time they reached a drift that led up to a rock face with a shallow gap carved into it that was just big enough for two people to sit underneath out of the weather’s icy grasp. He led the way up with Law following after, as silent as a ghost and his grey eyes giving no tell as to what he could possibly be thinking. The floor of the little hollow was slick with water from melted snow and ice but it was firm and sturdy and would not give way under their weight. Sanji sat down and placed the swaddled crown next to him. Law remained standing, his gaze fixed on the sea of trees around them. Sanji did not ask him what he was doing, every time he looked at the melancholy prince his stomach would tighten and his spine chilled. He was afraid. Afraid of this version of Law. Despite what he had been so determined to convince Zeff of all those days ago, Sanji did not feel like a man. Lost out in the wilderness, hungry, cold, and scared Sanji had never felt more like a child in his life. He was not ready to be a man._

_He huddled with his knees to his chest, his burnt flesh feeling taut and uncomfortable in such a position. Above, far up over the lip of the hollow, the stars glimmered brightly. From where the North Star was fixed, Sanji could tell they were headed east which confirmed his previously rough estimate that they were now in Wolf Forest, a long stretch of woodland that trailed down the eastern border of North Blue. Sanji had led the both of them away from the Dragon’s Path mountains despite it being the royal escape route, there was too much of a chance that such a decision would have been too predictable and there was no telling how far the West Blue army would traverse in order to hunt them down. The only place that no one would ever think to look for a prince was the Outer Lands, a mass of wilderness where the forest elves dwelled. So it was there that they would go._

_The damp of the floor was beginning to soak through his clothing and the cold had made his feet numb. He dithered against the chill and wrapped his arms further around his knees. The burns on his shoulder split open slightly and he could already feel the ooze against the cotton of his tunic but he dared not look. In front of him Law stood an unwavering sentinel, but what he was watching for Sanji did not know and did not wish to know._

_Somewhere beyond where the two of them shivered grew a low monotonous moan, building steadily into a howl that made Sanji shake all the more. The more voices that joined it, the more a sense of impending doom blossomed in his chest and iced over his heart. Law looked at him over his shoulder, his ragged clothing twitching where the wind pulled at it with teasing fingers and his eyes hollow and dead._

_“Wolves.”_

_It was a statement and the way the prince said it with such finality made Sanji want to cry. The forest was alive with the noise and everywhere Sanji looked he saw shadows of wolves in the corner of his eye. The pack, wherever it was, sounded far enough away but Sanji was terrified to fall asleep at the thought they’d reach him and eat them alive._

_Law stayed out in the snow, his haunting gaze relentless and if the cold bothered him he made no complaint of it. Sanji sat in the hollow and began to cry softly, holding himself tightly. Together they remained awake all night, listening to the howling of the wolves._

_The next day fared no easier on them. A wind had picked up overnight, coming in from the mountain pass they had left behind, and it flurried the snow about their feet and brought chilblains to the skin that was not as damaged. The skin around Sanji’s eyes was tight and burned as the wind iced the tears that had spilled. He’d tried many a time to stop crying but to no avail, every time he thought the wave of sadness had passed he would think of Zeff or the king’s head on the ground in front of him and be back where he started. The prince said nothing as he walked and Sanji didn’t know anymore if that was making things better or worse. The cold was so intense now that he could no longer feel his feet or fingers and his pale skin had begun to take on a bluish hue._

_They ate some berries they had found growing on a thorny bush and after a few hours had passed with no vomiting, Sanji felt assured that they weren’t poisonous. The sun rose and the wind eventually died to nothing. They came to the end of Wolf Forest and stared into the black density of the monstrous forest of the Outer Lands. They had left the snow behind them some time ago and now it gave into wet, sticky marshes and moist forest floors. The mud was slimy under Sanji’s feet but significantly warmer than the snow had been and now they began to ache intensely from where the ground had been so cold it had burned him too, just like the fire had._

_Sanji had been so overwhelmed with awe at the looming trees that towered over him that he had scarcely noticed Law leaving him behind until the prince turned to face him, a burned hand gingerly touching the bark of a trunk beside him, “Come on,” he said. Law looked tired, dark rings of exhaustion shrouded his eyes and Sanji could see a flash of pain in them too but whether that was from his burns or his nightmares he did not know. He nodded at his prince in acknowledgement and followed, having to push forcefully through the mud as it sucked at his feet desperately. Law waited for his patiently, his eyes watching attentively as Sanji stumbled across to him. Soon his feet touched drier, firmer ground and Sanji sighed with relief though twigs and leaves became plastered to his mud pasted soles._

_He was under the canopy now and everything was much darker than it had been in the Wolf Forest, the way the afternoon sun was dispersed threw in piercing shafts of light randomly and tinged everything a dark green through the leaves. Sanji briefly thought he had glimpsed a deer but it sprung off so fast that he only had enough time to realise with confusion that it had been far too big to have been a deer. Law picked his way over a large gnarled root and stood beside him instead looking back the way they had come._

_“They haven’t followed this way,” Law stated, “I kept track as we moved and the few smoke plumes I’ve seen have been getting further away. At first I thought they were heading to flank us but clearly it seems they believed we’d try the Dragon’s Path.”_

_Sanji released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding, “We shook them off?”_

_“So it seems,” The prince replied and turned to look at Sanji. His grey eyes moved over his face and Sanji didn’t feel comfortable with the weight of his gaze on him until Law said, “Your face has been bleeding.”_

_Sanji blinked and raised a hand to his face. “Oh.” He must have rubbed it too harshly when he’d been crying earlier and opened the sores again. Though he’d only had them a few days, Sanji knew they would scar fiercely. One night he’d mapped the wound out with his fingers, touching lightly but tracing out the distinct pattern of the metal fire mesh for cooking meat that had exploded into his face. The lines danced in a cross hatched pattern on the left side of his face, all the way from his eyebrow to his lower cheek._

_Law frowned deeply and wandered off a little way before sitting himself down heavily on the forest floor with a crunch of dried leaves. Sanji came and sat next to him and Law nodded seemingly to himself. He looked at Sanji and Sanji gave him as much of a smile as he could manage on his wounded face which was nothing more than a little curve of the lips, more curved on the right hand side than the left, “I’m okay,” He said, trying to be reassuring because the look on Law’s face was the heaviest thing he had ever seen and it made Sanji feel like there was suddenly a great weight on his chest, “It doesn’t hurt too much anymore.”_

_The prince smiled but it was so full of sadness that it made Sanji’s heart ache just to see it, it was so pitiful. Law brought up a hand before his face and suddenly Sanji’s vision was filled with blue and gold and it was as if everything was lifted away from him. His body was light, no longer aching and tired, and he could feel the skin on his face melding together again but it didn’t hurt, only leaving him with a tingling sensation. Abruptly the feeling stopped and the glow sputtered out and Law was back in front of him again looking more tired and upset than ever. He was looking at his hand with despair, “But I... I saved it up. That was all that I had...” He looked at Sanji’s face, his eyes welling up, “It didn’t fix you, but I- I spent two days saving it up! It was supposed to work. It was supposed to- to- argh!” He grabbed at fistfuls of his hair in anger and knotted his fingers in so tight it made Sanji wince and Sanji’s heart was being torn apart at the very sight of this boy, his_ friend _, hurting himself in his dismay. “It didn’t work, Sanji!” He cried, “I wanted to make it better and I couldn’t and I-!”_

 _Sanji cut him off, grabbing the older boy and holding him tight in his arms though his injuries screamed at him in protest. Law began to sob into his chest and Sanji just held him as close as he could. He didn’t pretend to know everything about how healing magic worked but he did know that it required immense amounts of concentration and stamina to be able to perform such works so he couldn’t be angry that this tired boy, this_ exhausted _boy who had lost_ everything _wasn’t able to find the strength to perform such a tolling task. Instead he held Law close and tight, as though he were physically holding him together- and perhaps he was. Perhaps right now he was the only thing holding Law together and Sanji took courage from that thought. He would keep his friend from falling apart. He had to._

_After all, they only had each other now._

_It was sometime after the first day that Sanji began to feel unwell. There was a blackening of the skin around the burns on his stomach and his head felt heavy, a painful pressure building up behind his nose. As Law set the pace ahead of him he thought rapidly of what he had eaten over the course of their escape that could have caused him to feel so violently ill but nothing came to mind. He felt hot and bothered, as though he was boiling in his own skin, yet when he complained to Law the prince blamed it on the humidity; the air around them heating up as it became trapped between the canopy and the forest floor. Sanji thought that that wasn’t the reason but didn’t argue, shifting in his ragged clothing as it stuck to the layer of sweat on his skin._

_Suddenly Law was shaking him awake, “Sanji? Sanji?!”_

_His entire body was on fire and it was a struggle to keep his eyes open and Sanji was shocked to find himself staring up at the foliage above. He didn’t recall having fallen asleep; hadn’t he just been walking behind Law?_

_“Sanji, you have to stay awake, alright? You have to stay awake,” Law insisted frantically but everything had become hazy and Sanji’s mind was like a thick fog, clouded and smothering. His eyes were drooping shut against his will. “Sanji!” Law cried, “Sanji!”_

_And Sanji knew no more._

 

_Law’s back throbbed fiercely and his knees strained as he carried Sanji’s deadweight on his back and shoulders. Law was breathing heavily and each time he had to traverse another patch of muddy swamp the more difficult it became to cross. But he couldn’t leave Sanji behind, that wasn’t a possibility he would consider; after everything, Sanji had remained by his side constantly and Law was forever in his debt for it. He winced as he adjusted the weight, Sanji’s leg scraping against the mass of burns that marred his sides. In his right hand he gripped the cloth covered crown as tight as he could manage. His fingers screamed in pain._

_The mud was up to his shins now, the dirt stinging the bloodied blisters on his legs to nigh unbearable levels and he was limping, Sanji’s weight awkwardly unbalanced on him. The ground ahead hardened into a grassy bank that sloped up and away from them and Law was determined to reach it. He hauled both Sanji and himself across to the other side yet as soon as his bare feet touched the ground his knees gave way and he fell, Sanji slipping from his shoulders and dropping onto the damp grass._

_Sanji groaned heavily but didn’t wake up, and when Law pushed himself up on his palms he could see the blackened skin around the younger boy’s burns and the dark circles of his slightly sunken eyes. He looked so drawn out, so weak and sickly and Law’s heart wrenched to see his friend suffer so badly. Law tied the crown to the ragged strip of a scarf around his waist and tried to get a grip around Sanji’s shoulders enough to pull him up but his arms jerked with such a painful spasm that he cried out, letting him go. He drew his arms against his chest and shook with agony, hissing as he inhaled sharply between his teeth._

_He couldn’t give up, not now. Looking up to the top of the slope he tried to find some determination somewhere inside of him and pushed himself up to his knees and then, very stiffly, to his feet. Perhaps he could find some vines, he’d seen some growing further back the way they’d came, and maybe he could use them to hook around Sanji’s shoulders and drag him up the slope. It sounded barbaric in his head but if he couldn’t carry Sanji it would have to do._

_Law stumbled up the slope, his feet finding purchase on grassy knots and earthy clots, and when he reached the top breathing heavily he was surprised at what he saw. A small squat cabin made from constructed logs with a crooked chimney that billowed out thick plumes of black smoke. Law’s eyes wandered down to the front garden and blinked, as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A woman was stood in the grass, holding a basket full of herbs, and staring back at him, but she was the most bizarre lady he had ever seen in his life._

_Her tanned skin was leathery with old age and decorated with tattoos of vivid purple and white, and they threw out a hue, as though they were glowing. Her grey hair was braided messily and from either side the pointed tips of her ears peeked out, too long to be human. The expression on her face was one of considerable shock as she took in the wild looking, horrifically injured child before her. She was an elf and Law had studied species enough to recognise the tattoos as being ones that branded her as an outcast from the tribe she had originally belonged to. But the way they glowed was unnatural, he’d never seen such tattoos before on an elf._

_He was scared, he’d heard of the woodland elves and their savagery and he knew that he should be running away from her but his friend was lying, possibly dying at the bottom of the slope and he couldn’t leave him behind. Tears of stress welled in his eyes as he realised that this was the best chance of help._

_He began sobbing, “Please,_ help _.”_

* * *

 

(Present Day)

 

Sanji had never spent a night in a cell before, let alone in the East Blue castle gaols, but it was just as uncomfortable and miserable as he imagined it would be. He leaned forward from where he sat to reach his toes, stretching his back out with a series of pops. He pushed himself back upright and yawned deeply, moving a hand up to his face to make sure his fringe was poised over his scars. He then swept the remainder of his loose locks over his right shoulder and surveyed his surroundings.

The floor and walls were all constructed out of the same drab grey stone, the ground covered in coarse scatterings of hay that made his skin itch and cast sprays of dust into the air every time he so much as moved. There was one narrow slit high up on the wall that was opposite to the one with iron bars that let a small amount of sunlight bleed into the room. The shaft of light fell down across his face which was what had woke him up in the first place, the brightness almost blinding him. Sanji slowly came to the realisation that there was a dull ache at the back of his skull that grew more insistent with every passing minute and he placed his fingers there delicately, wincing as they traced a small but defined lump. He recalled struggling and then the hilt of Zoro’s sword cracking across the back of his head before darkness took him.

He thought briefly of standing up but retracted the idea when he attempted to and his vision swam in a way that made him feel sick. He slumped back against the wall and rested his head against the metal bars, defeated. For lack of anything else to do he closed his eyes and dozed lightly.

 

By the time he’d woken up again the light coming through the window had intensified greatly and he estimated that it was somewhere around or close to noon. He blinked rapidly and cleared his throat from the hay dust that clogged it. The pain in his head had faded into the background and he was somewhat pleased to find that the room didn’t spin madly whenever he moved. At this newfound recovery he pushed himself up onto his feet, swaying only a little, and shook the hay from his trousers before leaning up against the bars to get a good look at what lay beyond.

The gaol was a part of the dungeons that was still on ground level, the holding cells for more serious criminals and torture chambers were kept well away, tucked down in caverns below. To his left and right Sanji could see the torch lit hallways with a heavy banded oak door at either end and in front of him was a small hollow carved neatly into the wall where a rickety old table and a set of chairs were placed. No doubt they were for the guards, but Sanji had yet to see any of them. He pressed his forehead to the cool bars and frowned.

“Oi, oi, what’s a man got to do to get a drink around here?” He called out, listening to his voice echo and die out down the hallways. “Hello? I’m still here, you know!”

Perhaps taunting whatever guard was going past was a bad idea but Sanji was uncomfortably thirsty and sore from his night on the cold hard floor of a prison cell and his mood was beginning to turn a little sour. At the lack of response he scrunched up his nose in annoyance and then sat down again with a dejected huff.

“Sulking like a child, huh?”

The voice was smooth and deep and Sanji had heard it more than enough times to know exactly who it belonged to. He forced a smile and turned his gaze to the man that stood on the other side of the bars. Prince Zoro looked more pleased with himself than ever, an imposing and gleaming figure of power as his armoured chest plate caught the dim reflections of the candles. This close Sanji could make out the fine detailing of the metal, his eyes tracing over the glimmering lines of patterned leaves and coils, and even the rises of scars on the prince’s dark skin which he’d never paid much mind to when he was running from the man.

The prince seemed elated at this happenstance and Sanji couldn’t blame him all that much for enjoying it, he had evaded the prince’s lawful grasp for almost nigh on two years after all. Sanji’s smile unwittingly became a teasing one- he could not help himself; there was just something about the other man that gave Sanji joy to annoy. Perhaps it was the rise he managed to get out of Zoro that appealed so much... Sanji smirked.

“Your _majesty_ , what an _honour_...” He swept one arm around in a wide gesture to the state of the cell and feigned shock, “If I’d known I was to be in your presence then I would have cleaned up!”

Zoro’s mouth twitched but whether it was a smile or a grimace Sanji could not tell. He assumed it was the latter.

“Shut up, thief,” Zoro said and folded his arms. There was a stifled silence momentarily as both locked gazes with one another, and Zoro’s scowl deepened at the amused expression on Sanji’s face. “What do you have to look so pleased about? I’ve caught you red-handed and locked you away here,” He gestured vaguely around them, and Sanji internally remarked at how the prince’s emerald hair appeared almost a dirty brown in the candle glow, “I believe that _I_ am the winner here. You’re ‘ _penned_ ’.”

‘Penned’ was a game common in East Blue and was a violent one at that, much the same as any sport in a battle oriented country. It was traditionally comprised of two teams but there had been matches known to have had up to eight and the aim of the game was to physically assess and outwit the opposing team, using their weaknesses against them in bare hand combat. The matches took place commonly on farmland and each opponent, once physically beaten down, was then thrown in one of the nearby animal pens where they were firmly classed as out, hence the term ‘penned’. Sanji sighed, “You’ve surely outwitted me this time, mossy.”

Zoro glowered at the insult, “Don’t address me that way.”

“Sure thing, mossy,” Sanji leaned back against the cool stone wall and eyed the prince up and down. Zoro was still young at twenty one years old and the harsh lines of his face made him charmingly handsome but they also gave him an air of being older than he actually was. Sanji could scarcely blame the man; everyone knew the prince’s tale- orphaned at a young age and left as the remaining member of the Roronoa line when his sister had passed from illness.

And he’d been there that night too.

It was years ago now and though they had been but children at the time, Sanji could still make out the child prince’s face as he screamed for his mother and father. Sanji knew that he would never be able to repress the memory of that night and the lines of Zoro’s face assured him the prince thought the same thing. Sanji said nothing of his thoughts aloud; Law had drilled it into him that they couldn’t trust anyone after that night.

Zoro’s eyes narrowed at his silence and an irritable look seemed to pass his face, the corner of his mouth twitched, “Really? You’ve nothing to say at all?”

“As flattering as it is that you’re concerned about me, mossy, I was thinking.” Sanji said.

The prince frowned, “Thinking?”

“You say you’ve caught me red-handed, but I think you haven’t got enough evidence,” Sanji said and pushed himself up onto his feet, “I mean, you caught me at a market _shopping._ The last I had heard, shopping isn’t a crime, well, _anywhere._ ”

At that Zoro looked a little taken back, “But I _saw you_ the other day, and all the times before that! Don’t think you can wriggle your way out of this one.”

Sanji shook his head, “Ah-ah, but isn’t that your word against everyone else’s? Unless you have witnesses that aren’t just you, of course?” Zoro’s skin flushed and Sanji knew he was onto something. He smiled devilishly, “Something tells me, _your highness_ , that you didn’t find anyone willing to put a word against me.”

It should not have been all that surprising honestly, Sanji helped out those in need and they paid him back through being careful not to give out any incriminating evidence. Even those who hated him would dare not speak against him out of fear alone.

As though the gods themselves had constructed the moment, one of the heavy oak doors scraped open and a guard ran in as if on cue, looking rather out of breath, “Your majesty!” He made a brief, tiny bow, “The town is in uproar!”

Zoro’s brow furrowed deeply, “What?!”

“There’s a large group by the castle gate.”

“What do they want?”

The guard shuffled uneasily and his gaze flitted over Sanji briefly, “That’s the, uh, problem. They’re asking for the thief to be released, your majesty. The Lady Nico advises that you’d do well to listen to them.”

At that Zoro was furious, “ _What?!_ All this time I’ve spent trying to bring him to justice and now you expect me to _let him go?!_ ” The prince’s voice was powerful and fear inducing this loud and Sanji found himself unconsciously shying away from it. It echoed off the walls and the guard’s face paled slightly.

“Please, your majesty, I’m only the messenger! They’re saying he’s innocent and are swearing by it! They’ve more evidence than we can bear to listen to!”

Zoro’s face softened as he took in the fear-struck man before him and Sanji could see the regret at losing his temper in his expression, “You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said, much calmer this time, and ran a hand over his face, “Do as Robin says... As much as I hate to admit it, she’s usually right.”

“Yes, your majesty.”

“And _you_ ,” Zoro practically growled, pointing an accusing finger through the bars at Sanji, “Don’t think that you’ve won this one. It isn’t over- I’ll be waiting for you to slip up.”

Sanji swallowed dryly as the prince glared at him a moment longer before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room, muttering to himself and leaving Sanji feeling like those golden eyes had burned into his mind’s eye. It took him a moment to catch up and call after him, “Goodbye, your majesty!”

“Shut up,” Zoro replied and the door slammed shut.

The guard cleared his throat a little too loudly and Sanji turned his attention to him as he spoke, “I’ll just go and find the keys.”

Sanji smiled politely at him and tried to push the image of two liquid gold eyes from his mind.

* * *

 

 

The castle gardens were hidden away from the public, embraced by rocky slopes on all sides so that no cold winds, even now just coming out of winter, could reach the lower levels of the grounds and it kept the air at a pleasant temperature; not stifling, but not freezing either. Zoro took the hood down from over his head and ran a gloved hand through his hair. His armour was off but his limbs still felt heavy from the long day he’d had, and he was still no closer to catching that elusive Dark Prince, nor that petty thief, Sanji; two people who had evaded his justice for far too long. He sighed and wandered down to the only place he could think of to go in the vastness of his gardens, brushing a large amount of white ivy aside as it tumbled from a thick branch of an old Goddess tree.

Zoro had no time for religion himself which made him different from his ancient family line, but he respected the concept nonetheless and still had the sacred trees and foliage tended to; he didn’t want to tempt the wrath of any god, should there actually be any. There were thirty god and goddess trees placed strategically throughout the grounds, their glimmering silver barks worked at over hundreds of years by assigned mages who carved in the runes and scripture for each holy figure. As Zoro passed Athusis’ tree, he ran his fingers gently over the carved bark and a surge of reassurance flooded his emotions as the runes bound some of their magic to him. _Trust that the Goddess of War, Athusis, will keep you steadfast,_ Zoro thought, briefly reliving those memories where he was taught the Scripture.

The gardens opened out from the foot worn paths into wide lush glades with varieties of plants growing that were pruned and tidy. The glade Zoro was headed for was different to the others.

The Glade of Mourning was smaller with rarer and more stunning plant life that maintained an air of reflection and loss. As Zoro stepped into the opening he threw a passing touch out of respect to the tree of Anuith, the God of Death. _There are few promises that Life can keep but Death will always be one of them,_ the tree passed on and Zoro shuddered as a chill ran through his veins.

Three white tombs stood silent and stark against the dark plantlife and a low hanging mist had crept in, creating an ethereal scene. The sun had been swallowed by the clouds briefly and for all intents, the glade appeared as if time there stood still. The prince hardened himself and pressed his fingers to his lips then brushed them over the tops of the tombstones one by one; for his mother, his father, and... and Kuina.

Hers was the smallest tomb of the three, just as intricately designed as the others with coiling dragons and ivy borders. Kuina had always loved dragons though the last had died out hundreds of years before her birth. Every other week she’d drag him off to just north of the castle, both of them riding out past New Town and up the hills beyond until they’d reach the remains of Rampcal. They would spend hours there, climbing along the ridge of the spine and weaving through the gaps of the ribcage. Sometimes she would bring her sword and stand on the dragon’s flaking skull, the blade raised high in the air and claiming victoriously that she had slain the mighty beast. Their mother had often wished Kuina had been more feminine but Zoro did not care for that, to him she was the best sister anyone could have wished for.

He missed her dearly and more than she’d ever know.

From his right hip he unsheathed her sword, Wado, the two tone blade scraping on its exit from the white scabbard, and laid it atop the grave as he always did when he visited. She’d always loved her sword and when she had passed on Zoro had taken it as his duty to look after it, especially now that it was all he had left of her. All swords told tales and he had vowed to himself that every visit he would allow the blade to tell its former mistress everything since she’d passed on. Zoro did not want to leave her behind; Kuina had always hated being left out of things.

Zoro took a step back and allowed his sister the time she required with her beloved blade. He knew she was dead, succumbed to violent illness and long gone in the embrace of Anuith, and he’d accepted that but there was still some comfort to be found in returning her weapon to her from time to time. He retreated from the graves and sat beneath a blackwood tree, a proud looking sentinel with a thick cluster of branches and leaves. The grass and soil were damp beneath him but he paid it no mind, he could bathe later if needs be, and sat brushing aside the knots of dirt beside him, revealing the small but embedded crystals that had grown into the gnarled roots of the tree. Crystals were more than a common sight in East Blue, next to their status as a warrior country the hard enchanting stones were what they were famed for. Zoro had rarer stones cast into the crown around his head where they glowed ominously, greens and blues and amber. The prince picked at the hem line of his trousers.

Traditionally, the members of the Roronoa line were buried into the rock of the mild mountains that formed the southern defensive wall of the castle but for his family Zoro had broken the tradition. He’d loved his family too much to have them buried away into the dank darkness where so many generations had gone before. He hadn’t wanted them where he could not see them, they deserved better than a grave in a wall. Kuina deserved to be in the gardens she had loved. It was never supposed to have been a choice for him to make. He’d only been _thirteen_.

“They say that the dead pity the living.”

Zoro looked up to see Lady Nico standing over him, her posture as perfect as ever. Her watchful blue eyes regarded him thoughtfully, her dark hair tumbling loose past her shoulders with small braids tangled into the otherwise straight locks. Peeking out from either side of her narrow and beautiful face were elongated ears pulled and shaped like knife blades, a few silver studs and chains decorating her thin ear lobes. The markings on her face, a deep purple that complimented her dark skin, began on her forehead between her eyebrows and rose up along her tall brow in fine fluid curls and patterns like a tiara printed into her flesh. She was stunning and flawless in every way but Zoro knew that such beauty could only come with danger. He’d never known a finer assassin in all his life, hence her title as his Head Assassin alongside the one as his advisor, another role she had always been excellent in fulfilling. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. He looked at her expectantly and she finished her thought.

“They know what comes after… and the living? They are left to wonder what lies beyond.” She said softly and smiled; she’d always had an affinity for the macabre.

“Kuina would know never to pity me,” Zoro said, a sad half smile upon his lips.

“That she would,” Lady Nico replied.

Zoro cast his gaze back to the ground, fingers working at the moist soil, “You had me free that thief today.”

“I see that you followed my judgement.”

“Regretfully,” The prince muttered and set to working on pulling up blades of grass like a petulant child. He fiddled with the strips of green fitfully, “Why? You know how long I’d been working toward his capture, _why Robin?_ ”

The elf nodded her head, not surprised by the prince’s lack of formalities, they’d known one another long enough, “It was in your best interests, of that I can assure you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Any ruler can give out punishment as he pleases, but it takes a _great_ ruler to know when mercy is the better option.” She smoothed the silks of her corseted robes as she spoke, “Tell me honestly, what would you have done to him had I not intervened?”

Of that Zoro was not sure, he’d spent so long, so many hours, days, and months toiled into just capturing Sanji alone that he had not had the foresight to plan what exactly his punishment would be. He felt a flush of anger not at Robin, but at himself for having been so foolish. “I don’t know,” He admitted, his voice a little hot, “Humiliated him, imprisoned him, _hanged him, I don’t know, Robin._ ” Zoro looked at her honest and open, “I just wanted to do _something_ , he’s avoided arrests, humiliated me before my own people...”

“All I am hearing is personal grudges.”

“He _stole_ from the markets. He _broke the law_. He was in the wrong.” He defended.

“From what I have heard, he was trying to right _your_ wrongs.” Robin said and her words jarred the prince, his hand closing tightly around the strands of grass he still held.

“ _My ‘_ wrongs’?” He asked, bewildered, “Pray, tell me them.”

“It is well known amongst the court now that the prices for many basic goods in the market places have increased over the years,” Her voice was trying to be neutral but Zoro could hear the harshness in it, “Many of the peasants can scarcely afford bread each week let alone a change of clothes or fresh meat. People beg on the streets, your highness, and you still turn a blind eye? Seven silvers for a loaf of bread, Zoro, _seven silvers_. It’s a wonder your people haven’t revolted at all.”

This was news to the prince, “ _Seven silvers?_ ” He echoed, “When... Why hadn’t I been informed of this sooner?”

“Had you given us a second of your day we would have,” Robin scolded and her blue eyes were as cold as shards of ice. “But you were obsessed by this petty thief whom, may I add, was trying to fix the chaos you had left your people in?”

Zoro cursed, “ _Gods_ , I didn’t know... What have I _done_?” He released the grass and flecks of dirt from his grasp. He closed his eyes tightly, “What do I do, Robin?”

The elven advisor sighed quietly and her features softened somewhat, though she may have been an assassin she was not entirely heartless. When she looked at Zoro she saw not a twenty one year old ready for his ascension to the throne but a young boy who didn’t know what he was doing, lost without his parents to guide him; they very same boy she had seen eight years ago after the incident at North Blue castle. She rubbed her thumb against a silver band around her index finger thoughtfully, “If you may allow it, your highness, I suggest that you should take this obsession and use it for something more beneficial.”

“What do you mean?” Zoro asked, his voice strained.

“Make this thief, this Sanji, your inspiration.”

Two golden eyes suddenly held her in a stunned gaze. “What do you mean?”

“The thief knows your people well and is campaigning against the corruption that is defiling the market places. You should aim to do the same, how do you think this negligence of yours has made you look to the common man? Fix this, your highness, and the people will sing your praises for years to come.”

Zoro took in her words and nodded; Robin was right, as she often was. He got to his feet and swept the dirt from his clothes with broad open palms and a renewed determination, “I would like to speak to Vivi at once. Send for her to the library and I will follow. Tell her to bring the accounts.”

“As you wish, your highness.” Robin said, bowing slightly before taking her leave in a flurry of silks that flapped like a bird in flight and then she was gone and Zoro was alone once more with his dead family for company.

He straightened his shoulders and back proudly and adjusted the crown to sit better on his head. Stepping up to his sister’s tomb, he withdrew Wado and slipped the blade back into its sheath. He touched the icy stone with his fingers and bowed his head in departure before leaving.

 _Death is a promise,_ the Anuith tree whispered after him.

* * *

 

 

It was two day’s worth of hard riding to the east in order to reach the Outer Lands and by the time Sanji had breached the deeper parts of the forest his legs were stiff and had numerous sores from the saddle. His horse, a fitful mare stolen from one of the more overpriced liveries in New Town, was irritable and fought against the reins every chance she had. He squeezed her sides firmly with his boots to keep her in line with every attempt and by the second day she had submitted to her temporary master.

The forest of the Outer Lands was thicker than any forest any man had ever seen with colossal trees of immense size that stretched up to claw at the sky and down at the lower levels the sunlight was weak and filtered through the dense canopy. From their thick knobbly roots and cracked bark grew luminous fungi, producing just enough light to see by and making it appear as though the forest was in perpetual twilight. And the creatures that lived there were just as wild as the forest itself.

Twice Sanji passed a stag three times the size of his horse with antlers as long as his whole body and a great shaggy brown pelt that looked thick and tangled. It watched him with large flint black eyes that he could not help but halt his mount and stare back at the sheer size of the creature, taking in the finer details of the black stripes that decorated its hide and snout. Its ears flicked and Sanji wondered what would be required to take down a beast of such incredible proportions until he thought better of it and rode on, the deer’s gaze never leaving him as he went.

The horse nickered nervously underneath him and he ran a gloved hand along her neck and mane to soothe her. The ground crunched unevenly as her shoed hooves plodded along, picking their way through fallen branches, twisted roots, and rotting leaves. They passed some ruins, grey columns fractured and dilapidated with a crumbling flight of stairs that led to nowhere, all overrun with blackened ivy. Sanji noticed the Elven runes carved neatly into the weathered rock and took that as a warning to give the landmark a wide berth; the forest elves didn’t take too kindly to humans trespassing.

Sanji adjusted his slightly moth eaten riding cloak and brought the hood up to drive away the damp chill that was biting at his ears. The cold made the marred left side of his face ache dully and his breath came out in plumes of misty white. Though it was Spring elsewhere on the forest floor it was always as cold as Winter, the sun denied any chance of warming anything other than the treetops, and Sanji wished he had brought one of his furs with him. He cursed the gods under his breath and encouraged the mare into a trot, eager to be away from the forest with its hundreds of unseen eyes and in some warmth at last.

The further he travelled the more the ground began to soften and bog down underfoot until he and his horse were pushing through marshland, the black mud churning around them. The horse slowed to a walk, struggling to find footing on the uneven marsh and pools of water began to splash up with each movement. Sanji guided his mare to drier soil and gave her a moment’s rest before continuing on, he began to recognise his surroundings a little more and as soon as he reached the slope with its dark green, almost black, grass, he knew he had arrived at his destination.

He dismounted and took the tired horse by the reins, leading her gently up the grassy bank and talking to her softly until they reached the top where the ground levelled out and the cabin could be seen. A smile of relief came over Sanji’s face as he led the way to the building.

It was small and squat, the timber spaced unevenly in places so that some lines of mortar in between were thicker than others. The windows sat unevenly and the glass panes were dirty and warped, the chimney also sat a little crookedly but puffed out little wisps of smoke all the same, the tiny grey huffs stretching out and fading away into the dense trees beyond. He walked the mare a little closer and tied her to a low hanging thick branch of the tree which grew closest to the cabin, its pine needles just scraping the wall. He looked at her muddied legs and stomach and promised her he would bathe her very soon. She snorted, a soft sound, and flicked her tail as though warning him to hold to his promise. He left her there and hastily went, opening the front door and inviting himself in.

The cabin was just as dusty inside as the outside would have led one to believe and the walls and furniture cast in the simple amber glow of oil lamps. In one corner was a straw mattress bed with mussed up sheets and clothes strewn over it. In another, shelves overflowing with a variety of plants all preserved in jars, labels affixed to the fronts with spidery handwriting. In the middle of the was a plain but sturdy oak table, books stacked high upon it and inkwells and quills cast all over the grainy surface. At the other end of the one room cabin was a door that led to the back yard and where, Sanji knew, the herb garden was. He pulled out a chair from the table and sat down heavily, exhausted from his long journey. He pulled out his pipe from a pocket and lit it using the candle on the table. He puffed it a few times and relaxed.

He didn’t have to wait long.

A man stepped into the room from the back door, humming a somewhat familiar tune to himself as he closed it behind him. He briefly startled when he saw Sanji but then rolled his eyes, “I should’ve known it would be you, Sanji.”

Sanji smiled around his pipe, “A pleasure to see you too, your highness.”

Prince Trafalgar Law shook his head at him in disbelief. The prince of North Blue had changed dramatically over the past eight years, no longer a boy of sixteen but a man of twenty four years. He’d grown into it well, taller and stockier than he had previously been with dark, well-kept, facial hair on his chin and his black hair long enough now to pull back into a short stub of a tail. There were magical tattoos now on his wrists and the back of his hands where the healing magic had left its mark permanently, stopping at his knuckles just before his fingers which were left bare. His dark skin had healed over well, the scars no longer gnarled and bloody but smooth and pale like snow. The largest was on his face, a long strip that ran from his right cheek to his left, and over the bridge of his nose. Sanji knew the scars were everywhere besides what was visible on his face, neck, and arms. The prince’s body had been entirely marred by that night save for the few expanses of skin that were only flecked rather than seriously maimed.

Law scrunched up his face and patted the dirt from his dark blue robes, “I wish you wouldn’t call me that- Law or Trafalgar would do just as nice.” Satisfied he’d got it all, he straightened up, “I would ask if that was your horse out there but I think I know the truth.”

“She’s borrowed... from a friend.”

“You never give back anything you borrow Sanji; you must make for a terrible friend.” Law said and crossed the room to sit, “Feet off the table.”

Sanji’s heel had scarcely touched the tabletop but he sighed and set his feet back down to the floor, he took the pipe from his mouth again and blew a stream of smoke, “I have you, don’t I? I can’t be _that_ terrible.”

The prince lifted a book from the top of the stack and opened the pages as a small smile graced his scarred lips. “I like to believe I’ve succumbed to madness.”

Sanji feigned injury, “You _wound me_.”

Law chuckled and loosened the thread in his hair sending dark locks tumbling to his neck line, “As if I could.” He looked up, grey eyes flashing at him, “What’s brought you here? This is the third visit this month, I thought we agreed on two monthly so as not to arouse suspicion?”

Sanji smiled sheepishly, “Ah, well.”

The prince’s face fell, “What happened? What did you do?”

“I may, eh, need to stay here for a couple of days...” He replied, trying to skirt around the truth but the look on the prince’s face screamed the words _you tell me now or I swear to the gods I will hit it out of you._

“Why?”

“It was a- I may have- You see, I-“ Sanji faltered.

“Sanji, tell me right now or I’ll have _you_ sleep outside with that horse of yours!” Law demanded and Sanji immediately caved.

“I may have been arrested, for theft.”

Law looked enraged for a moment before he seemed to calm slightly. He breathed in then out, “Okay, it could have been something worse I suppose and-“ He paused, “You _were_ released weren’t you? Gods, you didn’t escape or anything?!”

Sanji shook his head, “No, no, I was released. I just need to stay here, wait for everything to settle down again.”

Law nodded, “Alright, I understand, you know you’re always welcome here-“

“I should also clarify that I may have insulted Prince Zoro of East Blue and he may or may not want to kill me.” Sanji blurted.

If Law was angry before, now he was furious, horrified even, “You did _WHAT?!_ ”

Sanji shrunk in his chair and smiled nervously, “I just thought you ought to know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> p.s. Zoro is meant to be a tad unlikeable in the things he says at first, don't worry!


	4. These Ties That Bind Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some bonds that are formed through childhood, some through common interests, and some through the desire of companionship. Though it is universally agreed upon that the strongest bonds are formed through hardship and the need to survive.  
> In which Prince Law hides a deep and awful guilt, memories are relived, and Sanji makes a promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's just gone midnight here in the UK but let's pretend that this update isn't late okay... thanks!

Sanji woke to a shove, hard enough to push him off the straw mattress where he lay and onto a wool rug on the floor with a heavy _thud_. He groaned in both pain and annoyance at his rude awakening. His vision, slightly blurred, began to focus on the grainy wooden beams far up over his head. The early morning sunlight, still weak, filtered in through the warped glass of one of the windows and exposed the dust motes dancing through the pale glow. The air in the house was warm and stiff, a little stale from the smell of sweat and sleep, and Sanji took note to open the windows and doors as soon as he could. He yawned deeply and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“That’s for being a blanket hog,” Law’s voice, rough and garbled from sleep, called from above him. Sanji pushed himself up stiffly to see the prince sitting up on the bed, his dark hair tousled and tangled. Yet Sanji knew that the other wasn’t as grumpy as he sounded, but rather relaxed; the contented aura radiating from him was tangible in the hazy morning air.

“You have to push me like that every time, don’t you?” Sanji muttered, moving to get up and pulling a face as his joints clicked.Their set up of sleeping together when he came to visit was very much a platonic one. After the attack, being lost in the woods in the middle of winter with a search party on their heels had left few options for keeping warm. Up until they found proper shelter the two had often huddled together, and even when they found an abandoned home or shelter to stay in, they remained close together. Sleeping seperate meant facing the cold, and nightmares, alone. The nightmares had happened more frequently when they were younger, and though they didn’t always happen as adults, Law and Sanji had somehow both silently agreed that nights of dreamless sleep shared were better than the restlessness of sleeping alone.

“You only come to see me to steal my bed and blankets, I swear,” Law said aloud to no one in particular, then pushed himself out of bed with a yawn and a stretch. His tunic raised slightly with the motion, revealing a sliver of mottled, marred skin on his stomach for a brief second. Instantly, guilt coiled faintly in Sanji’s gut. _‘He’s permanently damaged because I wasn’t quick enough’,_ he reminded himself, again. ‘ _It's my fault he nearly died, I should have been faster. I should have noticed what Doflamingo put in the fire…’_

Law swiped a hand through the blonde’s messy locks as he walked past, giving them a light yank and yawning loudly all the while, “Come on, freeloader. At least make me something delicious to eat.”

Sanji ducked away and grumbled a little, but complied willingly. Law didn’t store any meat products, since he didn’t have a place to keep them cold, even with magic but he did, however, have a lot of eggs, thanks to the small coop of chickens he kept in the walled garden behind the cabin. He took a relatively large wooden bowl from a shelf and cracked several eggs into it. He pinched miniscule amounts of herbs and spices from the hanging bundles that were tied firmly to the roof beams and mixed them in. Outside the kitchen window, Sanji could see the dew in the grass start to evaporate as the sun began to creep over the treeline and into the small clearing. Law, meanwhile, had started up a small fire.

“Can you set up a pan over the fire?” Sanji called out, adding a small chunk of softened butter to the mix and brought the bowl over with him as Law set up a shallow metal pan on a circular iron frame which stood a couple of feet above the flames. He poured the mixture into the pan fluidly with a faint sizzle as it touched the hot metal. “Wooden spoon, please, and some bowls.”

Law huffed at being ordered around, a mixture of annoyance and faint amusement in his expression. Though he told Sanji frequently not to treat him like a prince, old habits died hard.

Sanji served up two bowlfuls of delicious food a moment later. It was rather plain, but their lives were much simpler than before; they were used to it now.

“Are you returning to East Blue today or tomorrow?” questioned Law quietly as he ate, looking at the other from across the table where they now sat.

“You sound as though you wish to get rid of me sooner,” Sanji joked, shifting in his seat, but he replied properly when Law glared. “Um, tomorrow. I need some more of your herbs and magic before I leave.”

“If that’s the case then you can help me collect them and make the remedies,” Law sniffed, scarfing the last of his breakfast down and returning his empty bowl to a makeshift sink. Sanji followed him a moment later.

The garden was a small but modest one and the way the sun reflected off the moisture on the grass gave it a glittering sheen that appeared almost magical. There was a slight chill to the air that made Sanji’s breath fog and drift languidly upwards before dissipating but it was more refreshing than it was bothersome. Haphazardly stacked stones formed a cobbled wall that ran the length of the garden, thirty by forty paces, and the lichen covered rocks were slick with mildew. To the far right of the garden, sitting in a tangle of weeds and budding wildflower was a carved pump with a rusted cast iron handle. Sanji headed towards it, leaving Law to tend to the chickens which clucked restlessly in their lopsided wooden coop.

Mud pooled itself around the slightly raised basin that the water was pumped into and the air maintained a quality of dampness around it but Sanji cast his shirt off nonetheless and took the pump into his hand. It was a fairly heavy mechanism and it took Sanji a few attempts at pulling and pushing but eventually water burst forth, sputtering out of the tap and slapping the basin below with a sharp _crack_. Still pumping with one arm, Sanji took some into his palm and threw it up into his face, it was colder than he’d anticipated and turned the bare skin of his arms and chest to gooseflesh but it was clean and washed the grime away. He plunged his head under the flow with a gasp and blew out harshly from his mouth as the water rushed down in torrents, worming its way across his scalp and round his facial features. When he pulled out he tossed his drenched locks back and shivered as ice cold rivulets ran down his spine. He forsook his shirt and left it aside, preferring to dry off naturally.

Sanji looked across the garden fondly, remembering the years they’d spent here as children collecting herbs for someone else; an old elf woman by the name of Kureha. But that seemed like a lifetime away now, just like the attack, as though it had all happened to somebody else and not them even though they both bore the scars that proved it.

Law’s voice snapped him out of his reverie, “Come on, you’re supposed to be _helping_.”

He blinked and looked at the now fully grown prince dressed in rags who was scattering chicken feed from a bucket as though he were a simple farmer rather than royalty. Sanji nodded, “Sorry,” he held out a hand “Pass me the bucket.”

 

* * *

 

The day passed relatively quietly; they worked their way from the sunny patch of green meadow by Law’s cabin and partially out into the woods, collecting herbs and fruits as they went. Sanji saw more markings for the tribe of woodland elves that lived somewhere in the vicinity, but said nothing as Law paid them no mind. It would seem that his neighbours were a bit friendlier now, if the lack of sentries at the tribe’s land border were any indication.

The majority of their salvage consisted of comfrey and dandelion. Dandelion was one of the most common herbs, and comfrey grew in abundance in the marshes as it thrived in damp soil, and although it appeared differently to regular comfrey that grew in more sunlight- it’s leaves a sickly washed out green- it worked just the same. _Comfrey leaves and roots mixed with plantain in a poultice was good for wounds,_ Law had explained to him many a time, and dandelions were rich in both vitamins and minerals, and could be used in several different recipes. Sanji often used them in salads. The winter frost still clung to the marsh despite the turning of the weather, and it was too early in the season for the more delicate spring herbs like peppermint or rosemary to be in bloom. Besides a large tree they had found a new growth of sage starting to take shape, which was good news at least, and Law marked the location by stripping off some of the bark with a blade. They collected some apples and lemon balm leaves at Sanji’s request, so that he could make some sweets for the journey back to East Blue.

They traversed the woods on familiar, old paths; dry and worn into compact soil in most places and mud slicked in others. The trees billowed insistently in the wind overhead, but the density of the foliage blocked the cold rush from reaching the ground level where it remained warm and slightly humid due to the marshes. Sanji ran his free hand through his hair, lifting the damp locks from his neck to ease the heat.

Making the sweets was simple enough. He washed the lemon balm leaves gently in a bucket of water from the pump, then left them in the sun to dry out. He then used egg whites to glaze over them, making sure to use the yolks with the lunch he made later on, and then dipped the glazed leaves in a small bowl of sugar. The leaves were then set on a tray high above the fire, with the blond checking on them every so often until they dried out fully and didn’t burn. The results were delightfully citrusy and made the room smell fresh and zesty, a tangy scent that lay gently at the back of his mouth. He made two trays worth; one for him and one for Law, since the prince enjoyed the sweets too.

With the apples, he took half of the collected bunch, washed and skinned them, then cut them up and cooked them over the fire until they were soft and easily beat into a paste. The other half were left alone, a couple for Sanji to take with him and the rest Law would keep in storage.

Towards the end of the day, as the last light of the sun filtered into the clearing, he made sure to bring out an apple for the mare who crunched on it with a quiet air of content as he brushed her down with a damp rag and made sure she was fit for the ride back into East Blue. She snickered at him as he rubbed down the length of her snout, flicking her ears as he murmured sweet nothings to her. The air was muggy and cold already, and his breath fogged slightly, as well as the mare’s. When he returned inside, the fire had warmed the entire cabin and filled it with a soft glow. Law was at the table, hunched over papers with straining eyes, and for someone so informed of medical knowledge Sanji couldn’t believe that Law still wrote his notes so late into the night with such little light to go by. It surely wasn’t good for his eyesight.

He pulled the second chair from under the desk and moved it next to Law, drawing the man’s attention to him. The dark haired man pushed his papers and ink aside. “Do you want some healing?” Law asked, as he did every time.

“You make it so awkward when you say it like that,” Sanji mumbled, sitting down. “It’s been aching a bit.. So can you, I don’t know, do the thing where it makes the tension go away?”

Law nodded, remaining silent. His lips pursed together tightly and his brow furrowed a little. It was the same expression appeared on his face as it always did when he healed Sanji, and his forearms began to glow and he lifted his hand up with a look, as if to say _‘show me where you want me to start’_. The mask of neutral concentration tried to cover up the immense guilt Sanji knew that the prince burdened himself with. He pulled back the collar of his shirt to reveal his scarred left shoulder.

“I strained it a week or so back,” he added for explanation, as if the additional knowledge will somehow make Law look a little less terse.

Law made a _‘tsking’_ noise, then lowered his hand until it just brushed against Sanji’s skin, and the warm rush of magic started immediately, the prince channeling calm and soothing through the blue and gold glow and the blond could feel the tension melt away. There was nothing that could be done anymore about his actual skin; it would forever be a marred mess of angry twisted lines against his pale physique. And Law would always blame himself, just as Sanji blamed _himself_ for not being able to fulfil his duty and protect his Prince.

Sanji started to hum. It was low, under his breath at first but Law seemed to relax his hand against him as he continued, using deeper hums to punctuate the lyrics that the two of them knew by heart. The song that they learned when they first lived in this cabin as refugees, bleeding and broken and in need of sanctuary. This place was a second home to them, and this song was their bond, not only to this house and its previous owner, but to each other and it was what kept them strong when they felt weak.

 

* * *

_Prince Law opened his eyes to an unfamiliar room. A sense of panic gripped him despite the lack of anything dangerous that he could see in his vicinity. His fingers, aching at the joints, knotted into something soft and he looked down to finally register that he was lying on his back with a blanket placed over him. He was on the ground, some form of mattress supporting his back but it was lumpy and hard, nothing like what he was used to back in his room at the castle. A shudder passed through him as that thought brought forward unwanted memories._

_“Sanji?” His voice was cracked and dry, a wheeze of a sound, and a flush of fear ran through his veins. Where was Sanji? Where was he? Law brought his hands to his face, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to remember. Flashes- Sanji lying at the bottom of the hill, a tattooed and glowing face that seemed familiar somehow, and raw agony racked through his body. Law breathed shakily as he opened his eyes. The tattooed face of a woman was staring over him and he must have startled for she laid a gentle arm on his shoulder._

_“Still,” She instructed, the word sounding garbled and wrong, like it didn’t belong on her tongue but the serious look on her face made the prince listen. Law’s breaths quickened._

_“Where’s Sanji?” He asked, rasping, and she looked blankly at him, “Where’s my friend?”_

_Her eyes lit up with recognition at that, “Friend,” She repeated, “Is good, is safe. Yes.” She pointed with her hand to the opposite corner of the room where Sanji’s tiny frame lay on a makeshift bed. Even from here Law could see he was swathed in cloth bandages and he could smell a mix of herbs and what could only be the stench of infection. His chest squeezed painfully at the sight and before he could even open his mouth to respond, so many questions jumping to the front of his mind, the tattooed elf placed her hand to his forehead, a haze of pink light blooming from her palm, “Sleep now.”_

_Against his will, Law’s mind grew heavy and he let the soothing warmth consume him entirely._

_He had a fevered dream that night, nightmarish versions of Corazon’s headless body reaching out for him, gurgling, choking sounds spraying from their opened throats as they lurched as one towards the prince. Law woke with a cry and a jump so fierce that it made him sit bolt upright, his hands clutching the blanket so rough that his knuckles were white and his fingers screamed in protest. He stared at the wall ahead a while, focusing on the cracks and how many wrought nails were punched into it as he sought to steady his breathing, “It was a dream,” He said, reassuring himself, “Nothing but a dream.”_

_Letting go of the blanket, he cast a look to his hands. The skin was rough and coarse and though they had definitely healed a significant amount, the blistered burns remained an inflamed pink that was a stark contrast to his natural skin colour. He was so enraptured in staring that a sudden bark of a strange language made him jump and he turned suddenly to see the elven woman moving around at the shelving, her tattooed, skinny fingers picking up various bottles and jars and placing them on the tray she held in the other hand. The language she spoke in was not the Commonspeak, it was coarse and rough, like she was hissing in the back of her throat, and it took Law a moment to realise that she wasn’t just babbling to herself but singing. The words were harsh but they flowed from her mouth like a babbling brook, dotted from time to time with accented notes and the charms in her braided hair clinked melodically. Law swallowed, “What’re you doing?”_

_The elf turned, looking as though she was surprised that he was awake, and her singing halted abruptly. She narrowed her eyes at him, “Make...” She gestured a little with her free hand, “Make medicine.” She gave a pointed look at the tray she held, “For you... an’... littl’r one, yes?”_

_Law glanced over at Sanji where he slept quietly in the corner, bandages freshly changed. A sudden growling in his stomach made the prince wince and he huffed, “I’m hungry. I want some food.”_

_He could see in her face that she managed to translate it but there was a disgusted look too in her eyes as she listened to a sharp and regal accent coming from the young boy. She gave a snort of amusement and instructed back at him, “Medicine. Food later. Stay still.”_

_Law didn’t know exactly why but a sudden swell of irritation surged in his chest as she, an elf, told him, a prince, what to do. Perhaps it was the pain aching in his body, or a longing for a routine that he could no longer have; he remembered the broths and the bread brought to him for breakfast, and the way that Sanji would occasionally bring him a sweetened glazed bun. This old hag couldn’t tell him what to do, whether he was sick or not. He snarled at her, “What’s wrong with you?! Are you that uneducated about the Royal Families? Treat me with more respect!”_

_His face burned when he heard that she was only laughing all the more at him, “Wa’s wrong with you?” She spit back, mockingly, “Arhh you stupid- don’ you know my fam-ilee? Treat mee with more respect!” She slammed the tray so harshly down on the table that Law physically flinched away as the bottles jumped and toppled, rolling around on the wooden surface. There was a fire burning in her eyes, “Boo-hoo. You sad. You alone.” She took large paces toward him and with every step Law could feel the anger within him diluting into a mix of fear and guilt. Her words were painful and cut him deep, “You think you imporrtant. Special, not like the rest.” She crouched down so that her eyes met his dead on. Her expression was cold and scathing, “You arr not special no more, boy. Lost, yes. Afraid? Very. You must not trust me, you think.”_

_Law didn’t know what she saw in his face but her tight lipped expression started to soften, “I know loss, boy. Pain and suffer. Time still moves on, changes all, don’t stop for us. To change is to live, boy. Will you?”_

_He didn’t answer her, his words failing and forming into sobs and tears. The old elf tutted soothingly and reached out, a hand smoothing over his dark hair. Instinctively he jerked away and she frowned, snatching her hand back and not daring to do it again. Instead, she pulled out a small pouch from her belt and dug her fingers into it, showing Law the small powdered sweet in her hand before popping it into her mouth and passing him the rest of the bag. She stood up and moved away, busying herself with picking up the bottles and the process of making more medicine._

_The tears only flowed heavier as he tilted the bag and small, handmade sweets tumbled into his palm. They were clearly made for a personal taste, and all the guilt he felt increased as the overwhelming realisation struck him that he had insulted their only saviour. He hiccoughed and sniffled loudly as the elven woman slowly started to continue her song. The melody was softer now, more sweet and soulful, and it eased Law’s tense shoulders and soothed his guilt somewhat._

 

_-_

 

_Learning herbal medicine had always been Law’s worst subject. Corazon had made him study it whenever he could, but the young prince had an affinity for surgical procedures that interested him a far deal greater than learning how to cure a cold. Besides, he’d reasoned that his magic could heal what didn’t need to be mended with tools._

_He wished he could take that naivety back. Now, he would give anything to go back in time, to run to Cora and tell him that he had been wrong; that he wanted to learn about the properties of herbs with him. He longed to sit at Corazon’s personal study, reading about herbs and educating himself on what they looked like and what they could do medically. He wanted to hear the king’s eccentric voice as he tried to make studying as interesting as possible for his young prince. He wanted, more than anything, to do the things with his father that he’d been too much of a reluctant teenager to have considered doing; like reading together, or having evening tea together, and just simply being together whenever Cora had the time to give him. Now all of his memories of his father were stained with blood and screams that he could no longer bear a thought of him without tears welling up in his eyes._

_He was beginning to tire of the guilt he carried, but Law still remained right in one thing. His magic could heal almost anything; however, it was limited to his willpower and energy. Still weak and fragile emotionally and physically; his burns healed slowly, the skin patching itself up smoothly, but lacking in any pigment, the milky scars stark splashes against his natural deep bronze._

_Sanji, however, was not as lucky._

_Law sat at his side for as long and as often as he could. The blond boy was deathly pale, paler than even snow itself, Law thought, his skin near translucent with web-like veins threaded across his thinning arms and weak body. With a brush of his hand, Law swept the overgrown golden locks from Sanji’s sweating forehead and face, only to reveal more of the burns. Thick, deep-set lines ran across his left eyelid, cheekbone and brow, stretching to his temple. They cut jaggedly into the swollen redness around them, gnarling and twisting the skin from cheek to ear, which, as if to add to Law’s ever increasing guilt, seemed to be missing a small chunk of the helix. His blue gemstone earring had remained undamaged though, it seemed, which gave Law a small sense of relief. It had been a gift to Sanji from him to allow the boy to wear jewellery beside the standard silver studs of a servant, jewellery which was normally a right reserved for the higher classes in North Blue, but he’d seen the way which the other boy had eyed his jewellery collection before, particularly the blue stones and so, for Sanji’s twelfth birthday, he helped the boy pierce his ear and stretch it with the aid of his healing magic to accommodate the large, crescent gemstone. Sanji had grinned for weeks afterwards._

_But this elven woman, who he learned had lost her clan name through banishment after managing to piece together the things she said from time to time, was now teaching him the herbal treatments for Sanji’s sickness out of the kindness and generosity of her own heart. Law didn’t know how to feel about such an act from her but it was beginning to work, albeit very slowly. There were no visible signs physically as of yet, but Sanji’s temperature had dropped dramatically from a fever and rarely ever rose again. He was getting better, it was just taking time._

_To pass the days, Law spent his free hours teaching himself Elvish; anything to keep his mind occupied from the painful memories. He cried in his sleep most nights and during the day if he had nothing to focus on. Helping the elf with the medicine only satiated his mind so much, especially as she had forbidden him from leaving the cabin. Finally, after days of begging and sleepless nights, he convinced her to let him learn her alphabet. He learned soon enough that there were many letter and abbreviations to the language and that the customs of the forest elves in the Outer Lands differed slightly to the Northern clans in the mountains. Once he had grasped a concept of almost fluidity in reading, so long as it was simple enough sentences, he read a letter in the Elvish script that the elf had left upon the table. His eyes scanned over the inked lines of the handwritten text and remained over one name: Eraina. He narrowed his eyes at it and wondered if this was her clan name that had been taken from her._

_He asked about it. He surely did try. The first few times she ignored him, acting as though she didn’t understand his words but when he pressed her one day he pinned her with the question in her own language instead. His Elvish was broken and garbled but the way her eyes widened told him that she had fully understood. Her surprise turned swiftly into a glare as she told him with an icy voice of finality,_

_“Eraina no longer exists.”_

 

* * *

 

The journey home was tedious and solemn. Sunlight filtered in through the thick foliage in small flickers, and the glow of the bark seemed just a little too bright to be natural. At first Sanji hummed to keep his mood up, the same tune that Law hummed to himself, and the same one that they learned together long ago. Then he checked his pack, making sure he’d packed everything that he needed and also enough provisions for the trip and the remainder of the month until the next visit. Glints of reflected light blinked from the depths of the trees surrounding him, and the blond caught whispers of movement from all sides, though nothing seemed to stir. The marshes were eerily quiet compared to the rustling he made with his pack, so he took out his pipe and herbs and a match to light up. The moment the marshes were past him, he guided the mare, now affectionately nicknamed ‘Apricot’ by Law for the colour of her coat, into a steadily rising pace until he could feel harsh winds against his face blowing his hair back. At this speed he had no care for his appearance; no one was around to see him.

The first camping spot was along the borders of North and East Blue, though still deep within the Eastern borders. It was on a path familiar to him, and perhaps he may have gone out of his way to camp here, but it was easier to find solace in places he recognised and that usually guaranteed a good night’s sleep if he knew his surroundings. Granted, he didn’t really sleep much all the while he stayed there, the paranoia of keeping watch for enemies of all shapes and sizes being too forefront in his mind, and as a result he only managed a couple light hours of dozing against the mare’s side in the early hours of the dawn.

_Smoke and fire and screaming, and more smoke and hot, scorching fire and_ so much _screaming, blood and pain and so many dead bodies everywhere, and the thud thud thud of approaching soldiers and the weight of Law against his back and the heavier weight of the crown in his scarf and the heaviest weight of all- terror. Smoke and fire and screaming and harsh winds and snow and so much pain-_

Sanji woke stiffly, longing for a comfortable, dreamless sleep at Law’s. The returning nightmare brought only exhaustion with it and with a resigned sigh, he collected together his pack and the riding gear for Apricot, and after a quick meal of apple slices between him and the horse, he saddled her up and they continued on.

The day seemed to pass in a blur, a repetitive routine of hard riding, resting for food and water, and riding again. He eventually stopped at an inn on the outskirts of a middle-class district in New Town for the evening, and with his hefty pouch of coins paid for a warm meal, a warm bath and a single bed, and he made sure to pay a meal for every other booked in lodger at the inn too. A woman who was coddling her infant nearby seemed to overhear this and beamed at him, standing and calling him over as he left the front desk.

“I heard you just now, if you pardon the intrusion of privacy,” she murmured. She was young, and the infant in her arms less than a year old. “But I just wanted to say thank you. I live here, from the room that I rent, and sometimes I can’t pay for food or baths if work is hard to find.” She seemed to fluster and looked away, ashamed. He reached out to her,a gentle, feather-light caress of her arm, and it seemed to encourage her to speak again.  “I was… used, by my previous employer and as a result abandoned by my family. Now I have my son, and no help in raising him. He suffers from my mistakes,” her voice cracked meekly and she ducked her head onto her unassuming son’s tiny shoulder as she whimpered. Her whole frame, what little there was of it, shook hard as she seemed to curl in on herself.

“Oh, no no no,” Sanji murmured soothingly, heart breaking into pieces for the small woman in front of him. He reached out to her, embracing her slowly, giving her time to move away if she wanted to, and when she didn’t he pulled her with him along the hallway and out of the main room. In a secluded seating area, he guided her and her son to his chest and whispered reassuringly into her ear as he petted her slightly dirty, mahogany locks.

“My sweet, sweet, darling flower,” he brushed his fingers through her hair. “You are the victim here, not to blame. Your employer wrongly abused his position of power, and yet you somehow ended up on the streets because of his tyranny. Your family discarded you when they should have helped you,” he struggled not to change the even tone of his voice as anger churned in his gut towards the people that caused such harm to this woman, who barely even could be _called_ a woman, she was clearly still an adolescent, thrown abruptly into adulthood without consent.

The infant boy wiggled uncomfortably, starting to become upset. It drew the woman’s attention for a moment, and she stepped out of Sanji’s embrace to rock him and soothe him.

“What’s his name?” he asked softly, reaching out to poke a squishy cheek with a fingertip. The boy squawked.

The girl smiled softly as her son seemed to fixate his gaze on the blonde in front of them. His own hair of dark locks seemed to get in his way as he fussed at it in order to keep his big green eyes on Sanji. “His name is Caspian. After the water guardian spirit from my home town.”

“Beautiful,” he grinned. “And yours?”

“Freya,” she used her free hand to push some strands of hair behind her ear, presumably a flustered habit.

“Oh, what a exquisite name,” Sanji’s grin widened. “In some tales of lore, the name Freya stems from the goddess of love and fertility, did you know?”

She blinked up at him in surprise, mouth agape for a moment. Then she flushed a bright scarlet, ducking her head low in an attempt to hide it.

“I- I didn’t,” she replied quietly.

“Freya,” Sanji repeated, and he rested a hand on her shoulder. “Tell me the name of the one who caused you such pain and loneliness, and I promise that karma will reach that man, and make him pay for his sins.”

Perhaps it was something about the way he’d said it that made her look up at him. He stood steady, unwavering, serious and meaning every word he’d said. So she believed him, and told her tale she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with us so far!!
> 
> You may notice that there's no chapter art this time around, and that is because we are holding a small competition!!!  
> Well it's also my fault (Kaiisan) - because I took forever to write the chapter, I didn't give mustang enough time to draw, in fact, she had to help me edit too! 
> 
> but we also agreed it would be super cool if you guys could take part in the fic??
> 
> The general idea is to draw a scene from this chapter, and submit it to our [Blog!](http://mossyprinceau.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
> There you will find a post with further details, as well as helpful pages such as character designs to go by, references and inspiration posts, and more information to use! We'd really appreciate it if people entered this little competition!  
> The winner will be announced along with the next update on the 1st, and they will be tagged in the blog with their art, and the art will also be uploaded to the chapter! 
> 
> Please comment, subscribe, and follow the blog!! :D


	5. World Lore: Spirit's Greeting / Anuith's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special Lore chapter describing the differences in holiday traditions between North Blue and East Blue and their versions of 'Halloween'. PLEASE READ THE CHAPTER NOTES, THANK YOU <3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, Kaiisan here, several things to tell you!! 
> 
> -#1: Contest is still open, now including this chapter too! Do whatever you want <3
> 
> -#2: this is basically a filler! Mustang and I had a lot of real-life, personal things happening this month, it got very crazy, and Mustang has sadly not had the time to complete her chapter yet.
> 
> -#3 she IS, however, going to make up for it! The next full update will be towards the end of November/start of December, and she plans to make it 10k long! 
> 
> -#4 I will also, hopefully, be making another World Lore bonus for Christmas/New Year - if you guys like these Lore chapters that is! 
> 
> With that, please enjoy this small update with our apologies, and we hope to hear from you in the comments! Happy (late) Halloween!

**North Blue - Spirit’s Greeting**

 

The people of North Blue were not a particularly religious lot. They were scientists, firm believers in the abilities of the mind and body and what could be seen with their own eyes. Whilst normally the discovery of magic would be considered the devil's work or something a scientist would be against, the Northerners were also practical people. Magic was a gift and therefore put to good use: farming and construction and craftsmanship and protecting their royal family and the country they loved. All of this is true, and yet there is one day in autumn where science meets with spiritual belief: Spirit’s Greeting.

It had been discovered over the centuries that the air shifted out of place for 3 days; first the plants and crops rot overnight, and the smell clings tightly to the skin of all who ventured outside. Crows and rats swarm the graveyards on the second day, and clouds darken the horizon and black out the sun. On the third day, the day of Spirit’s Greeting, the air becomes stale and thin, and everything becomes silent and still, a mist has crept over the land, silencing all noise and coating everything in a blanket of cold fog. The people have since learned to stay indoors on the third day, taking vows of silence and fasting as they offer what food hasn't rotted at their doorsteps. Over time, other gifts were also placed as offerings: carvings, paintings, weapons and trinkets. Anything that might seem pleasing to the spirits.

As the moon rises full in the sky - always at its fullest point, no matter how far in its normal cycle it was waxing or waning - a single noise can be heard through each and every home in the entire land: a soft humming, a tune impossible to mimic yet at the same time unforgettable. It could not be replicated with any human instrument, and none would wish to, for it came from a being that is not of this world, and one would do well not to invite them in.

Candles flickered and shapes fluttered in windows as the humming seemed to wander past every home in turn, inspecting the offerings with leisure and moving onwards with silent footsteps. The humming does not stop after the spirits visit, instead only growing softer and softer as dawn creeps over the mountains.

In the morning, everything returns to as it was. Food that had rotted is fresh once again, rats and crows have disappeared from the headstones of the dead, the air is crisp with morning dew and the sky is clear without a cloud in sight. When the people open their doors, the offerings are gone. In some cases, there are things left in return: a woven basket filled with blankets of unknown, soft material on the doorstep of a widower with a newborn child to raise; an aged bottle of liquid made of strange black substance for the family riddled with sickness; the head of the thief that had murdered a family’s only son, and the stolen possessions beside it.

Those who dared to disrespect the third day of Spirit's Greeting were found dead in the morning, eyes impossibly wide and jaws broken in an open scream of terror, despite no one hearing anything besides the humming in the night. Their bodies were twisted and torn, inhuman in shape and barely recognisable as the people they had once been known as.

It was well believed that the spirits protected only the inhabitants of North Blue, despite the West Blue country being ruled by the younger brother of the North Blue King. _The mountains must be the home of these spirits_ , many mused, _and so only protected those who lived with them on their snowy landscape._

Law and Sanji no longer felt the affects of the first two days of Spirit's Greeting. The Outer Lands were unaffected other than the occasional batch of rotting crops, and the air was only a little thinner and mistier than normal outside of Sanji’s cave. However both still blocked their doors and fasted in silence on the third day, and in the morning Law’s offerings of handmade carvings and Sanji’s offerings of gemstones from the mountain would disappear, the notes of the same humming tune faded from their memories as dawn slowly took over the sky once again.

 

* * *

 

**East Blue - Anuith's Day**

 

Anuith’s day was a day of remembrance in East Blue, the people of the country praying to the goddess of death in memory of loved ones who had passed on and wishing for their ancestors’ eternal rest to continue to be peaceful.

Yet it had not always been known as this.

Centuries before, back in the days of legends, there had been one such legendary battle on this day that the living still talk of in whispered voices between prayers. _The slaying of Rampcal._

Back in the time of legends and myth, dragons had lived freely in East Blue. They had been led by a drake known as Penryn, who had bonded with the King of East Blue after he had found him wounded as a young dragon and treated his injuries. The dragons had learned to trust in humans and the two races lived side by side. It was not always easy. The dragons would take livestock when prey became scarce in winter, and younger dragons would be careless and get caught in hunting traps from time to time, and occasionally reckless males would try and take on Penryn and challenge him for leadership, which led to many scorched trees and damaged lands.

It was when Penryn had reached a ripe age for a dragon that the true danger had struck - in the form of a younger, stronger male dragon from the Outer Lands seeking new territory: Rampcal.

The battle was deadly, lasting several days. At first, only the dragons had fought. Penryn was old but skilled; though Rampcal was of bigger race of dragon, younger and stronger too. His wingspan alone dwarfed the drake as they battled, and as Penryn lost his life to Rampcal the rest of the nest had roared their anguish and prepared to fight themselves. Rampcal had no love or trust for humans and set about destroying as many settlements as he could, sparking the human Easterners into battle with him, troops from all over the country riding into battle with the great beast. It took many days to slay the black-scaled serpent, but with the help of East Blue dragons they’d succeeded in grounding the dragon and slaying him, the King himself delivering the killing blow in revenge for his fallen friend.

It was believed for a long time that a ghostly form had appeared over the battlefield a short time later, guiding the spirits of the fallen from their bodies and towards the heavens. _Anuith,_ the people had whispered in awe, _Anuith is guiding their souls onwards, bringing them to their final resting place in the world above us._ Many dropped to their knees and prayed on the spot, thanking the death goddess and the goddess of war Athusis that the battle had finished.

For years after that fateful battle the day had been known as _The Slaying of Rampcal_ though over time and many generations living without the dragons at their sides, the tale became less about the dragons and more about the appearance of Goddess Anuith, therefore becoming _Anuith’s Day,_ securing the people’s beliefs in their gods firmly in their minds without a hint of doubt. Only the Royal Family remember the original tale, as the descendants of the King who had slain the murderous dragon, and as such are those who have visited the bones of Rampcal themselves, as the body had fallen in such a place that over generations had become part of the Royal Family’s private land, and was no longer open to commoners.

It was Kuina’s favourite place to visit. She would spend hours playing amongst Rampcal’s bones, retelling the tale over and over to the eagerly-listening Zoro as she scaled the spinal column and stood atop the skull, her elegantly curved sword raised to mimic the pose their ancestor had made when he’d slain the beast all those centuries ago. Zoro loved the times he had spent there with his sister as a young boy, free from all his duties and training and enjoying the time he had to just be a kid playing make-believe games with his sister. As it was now, he no longer had time to travel out to the old ruins of the dragon’s resting ground, and instead had created a small memorial in his chambers, a broken piece of the beast’s fang on a small silver platter by the window that overlooked the castle’s apple orchard.

He prayed to Anuith as was the tradition in this modern age, thanking her for guiding their souls at the end of their lifetimes and for taking care of their ancestors and the fallen ones. He also prayed for the spirits of the dragons that had fallen whilst defending the country. They too had been heroes, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Please let us know :) 
> 
> Thank you for sticking with us and all of our trouble, you guys are a blessing and we love you <3
> 
> Please let us know if you like these Lore chapters in the comments, and you may see more of them in the future!!


	6. The Third Prince of the South

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sanji defends honour, finds an unlikely prince in an unlikely place, and is accused of a crime most serious...

The punch landed with a thud, the force so hard and intense that Sanji saw stars and his ears rang sharply. Disoriented, he stumbled backwards, his hand coming to his right eye in response to the pain, clutching at the already swelling skin. He tasted the bitter tang of copper in his mouth and swallowed blood, the skin of his tongue bitten through.

“You  _ bastard _ ,” The guard, a burly man flanked by two others of similar size and stature, snarled, his cheek split in a bloody mess where Sanji’s knife had raked it open. He snatched Sanji up roughly by the front of his clothing and slammed him against the wall with a jolt of pain so intense it made him cry out, “Who the fuck are you?”

Sanji turned his head to the side, the black fabric wrapped around his head that revealed only his eyes dampened above his mouth as he panted heavily, the wind having been knocked out of his lungs. His body throbbed with pain and he winced as the guard shoved him harder into the wall of the room, his fingers scratched at the wall feebly, his mind stunned momentarily.

His eyes found the body lying on the ground by the bed, a dark stain blooming out from under it onto the rug. The dead man’s throat was slit, his eyes open and glassy, skin sallow and ashen. Sanji didn’t usually kill but tonight had been different. He remembered how the nobleman had sneered; laughing as he told Sanji everything he had done to Freya.  _ Despicable, evil things _ . Sanji had seen red, a crimson haze of rage settled over his mind as he’d grabbed the man and carved his throat. It had all happened so suddenly that he’d barely noticed the guards barging into the room until the blow met his face and he’d dropped the body to the floor.

Panic threatened to grip at him but he wouldn’t allow it, he  _ couldn’t _ . If he did, he was a dead man. He was a murderer, even if it was justified, and he didn’t fancy the dance on the end of the rope. His black garbs were fisted tightly into the guard’s hand and Sanji saw him reaching for his own blade. They wouldn’t kill him, they’d turn him over to the law, but that didn’t mean that they wouldn’t make him suffer first. Sanji grasped at the man’s wrist tightly and sucked in a breath, focusing on that being an anchor. The cold touch of metal pressed a part of his right cheek that was slightly exposed, the blade biting into his flesh. Sanji shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, his eyes meeting the others’ in a hostile glare.

“ _ Fuck you _ .”

Sanji threw up both legs at the same time, his weight moving to his back and his hands gripping the guard’s wrist tightly as he slammed his feet in a solid kick that connected with the man’s chest, sending him sprawling and Sanji falling to the ground, finally free from the strong grasp that had held him. His coccyx stung, making his eyes smart but he pushed through it, scrabbling to get to his feet as the other two guards swarmed him. He dropped slightly, sweeping one leg out in a low kick that took their feet from under them. He sprung over the three of them, as lithe and nimble as a cat as he made a dash for the window that was still open from where he had entered.

It was a fairly far drop into the yard below as he climbed onto the ledge and looked out, but he couldn’t give it enough time to register. He could hear the guards getting to their feet, their anguished barks making his blood jolt with how close they were. He sucked in a breath and braced himself, closing his eyes.

Sanji threw himself from the window.

He landed awkwardly, his knees screaming in agony as the impact jarred them. He stumbled forward, limping as he forced himself to get to his stolen horse, a jet black stallion, and cried out in pain and frustration, making his throat raw and tears welled in his eyes. He dragged himself up and onto the saddle, breathing heavily and causing his horse to become jumpy. Sanji snapped the reins harshly, hoping the sharp snapping sound would be enough to throw the horse into a gallop; his legs too pained to urge the horse with a squeeze or kick.

The stallion reared and it took all Sanji had not to be tossed off its back, his hands holding the leather so tight his knuckles whitened. With a wild whinny the horse plunged forward with a clatter of hooves and Sanji leaned forward in the saddle against the beast’s taut neck, his body exhausted and wracked with pain.

_ But _ , he thought as he rode away into the night, the cold wind soothing his bruised face, _ at least that bastard got what he deserved. I defended Freya’s honour. _

 

* * *

 

The clouds trailed across the dawn, thick wisps of pink and white that thinned out the closer to the horizon they reached until they were nothing more than pales lines on red sky.

The commander stood on the baked tiled balcony outside of his chambers, his back arched as he leaned on his hands against the roughened wall that skirted it. Around his feet, flowers rustled in the soft breeze, the clay pots they resided in the same burnt orange as the tiles that decorated South Blue castle and the houses all around. From here he could see the barracks, a few small specks of soldiers dressed in crimson and gold armour beginning to take up swords and shields for training and some of the jests they called to one another carried up to him, their laughter and light voices bringing some semblance of a smile to his albeit a saddened one. He pushed himself upright, broad arms crossing over his tattooed chest, the slight chill of the morning air giving him gooseflesh.

When he had first come to South Blue, Marco had certainly not expected to have come to love the country as much as he did. His people were a scorned race though they were few and far between, and South Blue had originally been one stop of many on his travels; never to settle down for fear someone would discover what he was. He had once been a sellsword, offering his services to whoever was the highest bidder and though he had taken jobs he regretted deeply it had been much easier to be hated for being a sellsword than an Aklithian. He was a shape changer, a  _ skinwalker _ as so many people had spat at him during his life. It wasn’t until one fateful night when the prince of South Blue had found himself owing his life to Marco that his new life had truly begun.

Marco wasn’t one for believing in fate but if anything could ever convince him otherwise it would have been the night he met Prince Ace. The commander left the balcony for the shaded, dimly lit confines of his chambers and began to dress, simple cotton under light mail with crimson tunic over the top. A squire came in on time to strap and secure the golden plates across his chest and arms and lace the black leather boots up tight before leaving again with a quick bow and blur of fast moving feet. Alone, he tightened his belt around his waist and let his sheathed blade rest against his left leg. He slipped on his cloak, the shimmering material like liquid gold as it caught the morning light that had begun to seep in through the windows, and made to leave, the sudden feeling of a body crashing into his catching him by surprise.

His young squire was knocked to the floor, stunned, and the two looked at each other in shock before the boy seemed to gather his thoughts and scrambled to his feet, “Prince Ace is requesting your presence, ser.”

Marco tried not to visibly cringe at the word; he despised being called a ‘ser’ despite having been knighted at the second eldest prince’s demand. With such a title now, Marco was often met with looks of adoration and respect, but others would eye him with disdain and Marco couldn’t help but agree with them. He was not of noble blood, nor standing, and he never would be. The title felt like a cheap guise that he’d never truly earned, but it wasn’t his place either to turn down a prince’s offer.

“In the War Room, ser. His highness says it’s urgent, ser.” The boy stumbled over his words, rushing to get them out as though it would appease his master. If anything it was a piteous sight that only made Marco feel incredibly uncomfortable. He thanked the child and left with a quickness in his walk, cloak billowing out behind him and his plates and mail ringing with every step. The metal glinted off both candles and shafts of sunlight that pierced through arching windows, casting him an impressive glowing figure.

He reached the War Room in no time and pushed the heavy oak doors apart just wide enough to allow himself passage before closing them behind him, “You called, your highness?”

Prince Ace, second in line to the throne, sat lopsidedly in the smaller throne to the left of his eldest brother’s, Sabo, who was current ruler of the country, his face drawn in a pensive frown that belied worry. Upon hearing the commander’s voice he looked up, his dark eyes meeting blue, “Marco.” He said, almost sighed.

Marco stayed at the doors, posture rigid and formal until the prince beckoned him over with the flick of a hand. His black hair was long and drawn up in a simple tail at the back of his head, the thin gold circlet he was wearing glinting as the light danced off it. The closer Marco drew as he strode past the long table in the centre of the room, the more he could see the unease on the prince’s face. He stood before the small step leading up to the throne and dipped his head, right hand coming up over his heart in a clenched fist.

“I am leaving the country.” Ace said, his voice heavy with a strong tone of finality to it that made Marco’s stomach sink to hear it. He frowned.

“You would like me to organise a convoy?”

The prince sighed, “No, Marco. I’d have you stay here and look after the army. Help Sabo in any way that you can and guide Luffy while I’m away.”

It didn’t sit comfortably in Marco’s chest as he looked up and met the prince’s troubled gaze, “But, my lord, where are you going?”

“East Blue.”

“My lord, please, I cannot let you go alone, I swore an oath not to let you come to harm. You cannot surely expect me to stand aside and leave you unprotected?” Marco’s lungs felt tight and restricted, as though his breastplate was tightening and crushing his ribs slowly.

Ace smiled, “I will take the men you advise me to, but you must remain to keep an eye on everything.” He met Marco’s eyes, “There is not a man in the land that I’d trust more. I must leave until I secure an alliance with Roronoa, you know that this is the only way to defend ourselves from the West, we cannot just sit back and allow Doflamingo to move in any closer than he has already.”

Marco balked at that. He knew that the mad king of West Blue was becoming more of an ever present threat with every passing day but surely Ace could see that he couldn’t just leave his country during this time, there would be uproar from the people. He said as much to the prince who nodded in turn, “Sabo will explain to them, and any rumours will find sudden ends to them, I have discussed as much with my brother.”

“But my lord, I cannot just leave you to perils, I swore an  _ oath- _ ”

Ace looked at his commander sadly, “This pains me as much as it is you, but it must be done. Roronoa is a reasonable man and I cannot see why he would forgo supporting us. He may be a young ruler still, but even a child could see that ignoring Doflamingo will not work much longer. Our parents may have been willing to believe his false grievances over his dead brother but I have always believed it was much more than that and with the power he has gathered over the years and his recent claims to inheriting North Blue, I fear I may be correct in my suspicions.”

Marco furrowed his brow but held his tongue, there was truly nothing he could say to change the prince’s mind and, as much as he despised to admit it, an alliance with Roronoa was the only chance they stood against the impending army that South Blue spies had claimed witness to Doflamingo rallying. The commander relented, “Then I shall have the stable boys ready your horses and pick out some of my finest men to guard you.”

“You have my thanks,” Ace said and suddenly Marco found the familiar feeling of the prince’s lips on his own. He took Ace’s hands into his gauntlet covered ones and held them tight, the constricting feeling in his chest subsiding in the warmth and security of his lover. His heart raced as the prince moved back with a suggestive smile, “I don’t leave until evening fall.”

“Then I shall send a lieutenant to organise the convoy,” Marco hummed, bringing one of the prince’s hands to his lips to place a chaste kiss across his knuckles, “Until evening fall, I am yours.”

Ace swung up onto his destrier under the dark blanket of night, the moon and stars bathing all the gatehouse and drawbridge in pale, milky light. He took the reins in a firm gloved hand as the bulky war horse paced restlessly beneath him, silvery breaths huffing from its nostrils and its ears flicking eagerly. Behind him sitting proudly in their saddles were ten of Marco’s best knights, two of which were also seated upon hulking black destriers, the royal banners held upright in their grasp, the golden flames around a black crown a stark contrast to the brilliant red silk they were embroidered onto.

Marco stood underneath the grand sandstone archway that led to the drawbridge, his armour almost haunting in the moonlight and his blond hair slightly askew though there was no breeze to have ruffled it up in such a way. Next to him, stood at shoulder height with a look of discontent on his face, was the youngest of the three brothers, prince Luffy.

Luffy, compared to his brothers, looked nothing like a prince should. Even now, during such a formal setting, his face was dirtied with dust and grime which covered up the scar under his left eye, his hair was mussed and knotted, and his formal clothes were nowhere to be seen, the young prince having chosen to wear simple starched cottons and the wide brimmed straw hat he constantly refused to take off. When Marco had been sent to find him to say goodbye, he had discovered the young prince bounding around in the wine cellar as he attempted to catch rats. The commander had managed to eventually drag Luffy away but caved when the prince refused to bathe or dress; he knew it would only be a lost battle.

Sabo was not present but had made his farewells in private an hour previous, his duties as king keeping him too occupied to spare much time, even on his brother. Luffy huffed, “Why are you leaving?”

Ace smiled good naturedly from above on his great horse, “You know why, Luffy.”

Luffy pulled a face at him and with a terse ‘bye’ stalked off in the direction of the stables and courtyard. Ace rolled his eyes, “Keep an eye on him, I worry.”

“I shall do my best, my lord.” Marco replied and Ace looked at him longingly for a moment, both of them knowing that now was not an appropriate time and neither one certain when the next moment would be.

The prince lowered his voice, “I will be with you again soon, I promise you.”

With a snap of the reins the prince led the convoy on its way, flanked on all sides by some of Marco’s most trusted men. As the last of the knights vanished over the lip of the horizon, Marco let his composed face fall slightly. His prince couldn’t come back soon enough.

 

* * *

 

 

It wasn’t that Luffy didn’t like being a prince. He enjoyed being able to boss people about and do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. It was more, in truth, that he didn’t  _ understand being a prince _ . All he’d managed to figure out was that it came with a plethora of rules that he didn’t want to follow because they didn’t make sense. Why did he have to wear fancy clothing? Why did he have to learn to fight with just swords? Why couldn’t he be friends with anyone he wanted? Where others would have taken them as the way things just were, Luffy saw them as restrictions designed to spoil his fun.

Sitting on a small grassy knoll beside the stables, the youngest prince sighed and brought his knees to his chest, resting his chin on top. In the dark of the livery courtyard he could hear the horses snickering lightly, some of them pacing around nervously at having caught scent of him and some already asleep, their heavy breaths rattling out of the stable doors. There was brief movement as a stable hand lit a brazier in the centre of the yard before moving on to some other job, not even aware of the prince’s presence.

Luffy scratched at a scab on his knee, one of a myriad of bruises and half healed cuts that he didn’t remember getting but had ended up with anyway. He already missed Ace. This was the first time one of the princes’ had left the castle and left the other two behind, and it made him uncomfortable, too aware almost to the fact that he and his brothers were growing up. He was nineteen in a few months, already a man grown, but he’d never felt ready to accept it. It perhaps stemmed from the realisation that it was highly unlikely he’d ever be king of South Blue. Sabo had recently started showing interest in the marriage proposals he had been offered, particularly the one from Lady Koala, and would no doubt secure his lineage with an heir soon enough. Luffy didn’t mind though, he already hated the rules for being a prince that he knew he would never be able to cope with the rules that came with being a  _ king _ . Sabo was far more suited to the role than he’d ever be.

It hadn’t always been that way with Sabo. Before he became king he was a wild boy who’d cause more than enough trouble in the castle and courtyards alike. Luffy and Ace would join in with no complaints, just as eager to cause havoc as their oldest sibling. The young prince remembered fondly the time they’d all stolen an enormous war horse from the stables, the beast so large that all three of them fit on its back with ease. It had taken four search parties of guards to finally hunt them down and get the horse back under control. To this day, Luffy still regarded it as one of the most thrilling things he had ever done but now Sabo was a different person, passing laws and decrees, and in meetings with his council so often that the young prince barely even saw his brother any more. It hurt so badly that Ace had left for East Blue without him; Ace had been the only sibling left who was still welcoming to Luffy’s antics, who hadn’t changed so much that Luffy felt as though he barely knew him anymore. But now he was gone, and who knew when he was going to be back? Ace hadn’t given him a definitive answer.

Luffy wasn’t an idiot and he knew full well he’d been left in Marco’s care whilst the middle child was gone and Sabo was too busy to take on the role of guardian. It made sense that Marco would be in charge of him, the fair haired commander seemed at times to be Ace’s closest friend and Luffy knew there was no one else Ace would trust more with his youngest brother’s safety. Though he knew it had been arranged out of the kindness of his brother’s heart, Luffy couldn’t help but bristle at the fact he was being treated like a child again. He was a man and had been for almost a year now, and men weren’t looked after as though they were an infant. A bitter taste crept into the back of his mouth.

A clang of metal against the cobblestone yard snatched Luffy’s attention to see one of the older stable hands, recently turned a man, cursing as he hurried to pick up the riding gear he’d dropped on the ground. Luffy picked himself up and jogged over, hefting up a heavy leather saddle in his arms. The stable hand seemed stunned a moment before worry took over his face, “Sire! I’m so sorry, please, let me take that!” The young man put out a hand but Luffy held the saddle away from him, a wicked thought crossing his mind.

“No, no, it’s fine, I have it. Let me help you,” Luffy said, offering a friendly smile. The stable hand looked troubled, glancing around as though he were waiting for some form of punishment to happen and Luffy frowned, “Don’t deny your prince, right? I want to help you.”

The young man caved at that and bowed his head, “Thank you, sire, you are very kind.”

The prince grinned, “That’s okay! Oh! I didn’t ask your name.”

The stable hand looked stunned, a look Luffy was familiar with every time he asked for someone’s name. For some reason people seemed to believe that a prince would never care to know who they were, but Luffy enjoyed putting faces to names, he  _ wanted _ to know people. The other fumbled with the bridle in his hands, smoothing out the twists in the leather, “Bron, sire. My name is Bron.”

“Well met, Bron,” Luffy replied, he shifted the weight of the saddle in his hands, “Are we taking this to the stables?”

“Y-yes, sire!” Bron said, and started to lead the way, Luffy trailing close behind and crinkling his nose as he stepped into the stables, the sharp scent of fresh hay and manure hitting him fully. He placed the saddle on the table Bron showed him and dusted his hands off on his scruffy trousers afterwards.

The stable was lit in a dim orange glow by candles in glass jars that hung from the rafters. A few moths fluttered around the flames, kept apart by the glass walls. Luffy’s horse, a soft faced Lipizzaner mare by the name of Ivi, with white and grey dapples and a silvery blonde mane, lifted her head over the door to her stall, nostrils flaring and ears twitching at having heard her rider. She nickered, vying for his attention and he left the saddle at the table to appease her, rubbing down the length of her snout with an open palm, the other scratching her cheek gently. Ivi’s ears flattened backwards in content and Luffy was pleased to see her so alert this late at night, it made making his decision so much easier. 

“Bron?” He called.

“Yes, sire?” The stable hand replied, his focus torn from the saddle which he was now cleaning.

“How fast can you saddle a horse?”

 

 

Luffy held the reins tight as Ivi moved under him aggressively, the striking of her hoof beats thundering on the wooden drawbridge and her long mane and tail fanning out behind her. There was a shout ahead as two guards, no doubt under orders from Marco, stepped out to intercept him, their shields raised. Luffy pressed forward and urged Ivi with a squeeze from his knees, spurring the stocky horse on until she connected with the guards and slammed her way through, sending them sprawling away. Luffy shouted an apology behind him as they sped away, the wind rushing past snatching the words and breath from his mouth. He didn’t dare stop.

Luffy was not an expert in reading maps, but he was familiar enough with the landmarks to know where he should be headed. Pulling Ivi hard to the east, they galloped along the Spirit’s Passage, the wide river gurgling and sloshing, the water black as ink under the cover of night. He stuck to the trees and higher ground that ran alongside it, the lower ground too wet to traverse and ran the risk of leaving behind a trail of hoof prints. He rode hard for some hours and by the time he’d arrived at the Lake of the Fallen Ones that sat along the borders of East and South Blue, Ivi was breathing hard and lathering at the mouth.

He hadn’t heard anyone pursuing him but he was still eager to move along as quickly as possible. Sliding out of the saddle he led his panting horse to the water and allowed her to drink and graze for a short while before leading her along by the reins, walking along by her side until she was fit enough to ride again. By the time they had crossed into East Blue, dawn was beginning to split the sky.

Climbing back onto the saddle, the young prince took the dirt road at a steady pace, it was wide enough for two horse and carts side by side and as the morning crept along the more life he was beginning to see. It became apparent shortly that he was walking through a small mining town, a mixture of burly humans and dwarves hefting large sacks of ore onto mule drawn carts. At first Luffy assumed them to be the typical coal, iron, and copper, but when one of the sacks tipped over and a splash of violent colours scattered across the ground glowing in a way that was not caused by the natural light the prince remembered how the kingdom of East Blue was renowned for its crystal industry. When one of the miners threw him a suspicious look for staring, he snapped Ivi’s reins and sent them both on their way again.

He picked his way past the mines, only confronting one miner who kindly pointed him towards the main road, Miner’s Walk. Luffy thanked him and headed north as the man had instructed, guiding Ivi through small streams, up large hills, and over rocky outcrops until the slope of the land led him straight to the road. Ivi’s hooves kicked up dust and pebbles as she walked, tail swatting at a few flies that had started to appear now the sun was fully up. Luffy reckoned that it must have been somewhere around midday and worry for the whereabouts of his brother had started to creep in. He had been riding most of the night and still had yet to cross paths with the other prince. He tried to qualm his troubles by assuring himself that perhaps it was because he had allowed Ivi to rest for so long that they had fallen behind, or perhaps Ace could have simply spent the night at any of the inns along the road. Luffy watched out for his brother’s enormous destrier in the paddocks and stables of the roadside inns as he rode past but to no avail.

With a frown, he snapped the reins and Ivi broke out into a loose trot. If he couldn’t find Ace here then he’d go to the place he knew he was headed: East Blue castle.

Luffy should have assumed he’d find some difficulty at the castle gates.

“Let me in,” He ordered, “I have business here.”

“Aye?” One of the guards asked, an eyebrow raised in disbelief as he leaned against his spear with a smug smile, “What business? Come to turn yourself in for being an ’orse thief?”

“What?”

“No way a boy like you could afford an ‘orse like that.”

The prince balked at the accusation, but he wasn’t too surprised by the coldness of the guards; he hadn’t exactly dressed in his finest robes after all, nor washed for that matter, “I’m a  _ man _ , not a  _ boy _ . And I am no horse thief, I am Prince Luffy of South Blue, third in line for the throne and-”

The guard laughed and his companion, another guard who’d come over out of curiosity, joined in, “Aye, and I’m Prince Zoro of East Blue. You’ve got some bloody nerve, boy, now fuck off before I have you thrown in the stocks for wasting my time.”

Both of them laughed scornfully and Luffy could feel his ears reddening with embarrassment and anger. He pulled Ivi about and raised a fist, his mind going red with rage-

“Oi! There you are!”

Luffy’s fist hung in the air like an unanswered question, his enraged expression quickly turning to one of confusion as a man appeared from around the side of Ivi and grasped her bridle. The stranger looked just as bedraggled as Luffy, his blond and brown streaked hair falling in tangled locks past his shoulders, mud and dirt caking every strand, and the one eye he could see shaded by a dark bruise, a small scabbed cut on his cheek to match. The mad man looked at him imploringly as he mouthed, “Play along.”

The prince was about to protest when the guard who had mocked him said, “This one yours then?”

The stranger dipped his head, speaking with an accent Luffy had never heard before, “He is a cousin of mine- a little soft in the head, you see. Sorry for any trouble he’s caused you.”

“Get that lad of yours seen to before someone cuts his tongue out,” The guard replied, “Go on,” He ordered, looking at Luffy, “Be on your way now.”

To say Luffy was baffled was an understatement. He let his fist drop feebly to his side and nodded, allowing the strange wild man to lead him and his horse away. As soon as they were far out of earshot, having been led down a secluded road that branched out into farmland, the man let go of the bridle and turned to him with an unimpressed look on his scruffy face. Luffy stared in shock as the voice that met him was completely different to the one he’d used at the guards, “What the  _ fuck _ was that? Are you  _ trying _ to get yourself in trouble?”

“I didn’t ask for your help!” Luffy barked back, suddenly on the defensive now that voices were being raised.

“Oh, because you were handling that  _ so well _ before I came along, you idiot!”

“How  _ dare _ you? You can’t speak to me like that-”

The man laughed, “Right, I forgot, you’re apparently a  _ prince _ ?”

“I am!”

“Sure you are,  _ your highness _ ,” The man jeered before sighing, “Look, er, what’s your name?”

“Luffy.”

“Look, Luffy, you can’t just say you’re a prince and have everyone believe you. That argument you were having with the guard wouldn’t have ended happily if I hadn’t stepped in. Look at yourself, who’re you trying to fool?” The man gestured pointedly at Luffy’s dirtied garments, “You don’t look like  _ anyone’s _ prince.” 

The prince collapsed in on himself in defeat. This man, whoever he was, was right. He cursed himself mentally- why couldn’t he for once have dressed appropriately? Now his journey was a wasted venture, he might as well have stayed in South Blue and waited for Ace to come back, “But my brother…”

The bedraggled man started, “Hey, come on, don’t look so downhearted okay?”

Luffy sniffed, “I should have just stayed at the stupid castle, everyone is going to be so  _ cross _ -”

“Wow, you’re really adamant about this being a prince thing, huh?” The stranger said, a puzzled look on his bruised and tired face, “If I didn’t know any better, you’d have me believing you.”

Ivi paced a little nervously under the prince as Luffy’s sour mood began to upset her, “I  _ am _ a prince.”

The other sighed and cocked an eyebrow but said nothing more about it. He held out a hand, “Come on, get off your horse. She looks like she’s about to give out on you. You must’ve really pushed her.”

Luffy eyed the offered help a moment before cutting his losses and taking it, allowing the stranger to guide him down off Ivi’s back before letting go. The prince liked to think he was a good judge of character and so far the other had given him no reason to be overly cautious. That said, he could easily have stolen Ivi and rode away. Luffy held the reins a little tighter as that thought crossed his mind.

The man dragged his fingers through his matted hair, wincing as he caught knots, “Let’s find an inn, clean off and get your horse seen to. You both must be hungry, right?”

As if in answer, Luffy’s stomach growled noisily and the other flashed a grin, “Come on then, _ your highness _ . I can’t promise anything fancy though.”

The prince laughed, “What’s your name? You know mine.”

“My name is Sanji.”

 

 

_ He’s nice _ , Luffy thought as he watched Sanji bring over two flagons of ale. The inn was noisy and full but relatively nice. He’d gained a few odd looks but when Sanji announced that they were travelling together everyone seemed to warm up to him, Luffy noticed a few of the women who sat on the stairs and balcony kept smiling at him with a strange look he wasn’t familiar with. He smiled politely back but, for the most part, ignored them. Somewhere among the throng of people a bard sung of dragons and knights, a lute lilting a spry melody.

Sanji placed the flagons atop the wooden table they sat at, pushing one towards Luffy. The prince took it gratefully with a smile.

“If you’re really a prince then this is nothing like the fancy stuff you’re used to,” Sanji smiled from around his drink.

Luffy took that as a challenge and filled his mouth with beer, the taste was bitter and there was a grainy texture to it, the dregs having not been drained out. His expression made Sanji laugh and slap the table top with an open palm, “I  _ told  _ you!”

The prince scowled defiantly and, in a surge of feeling to prove himself, chugged the rest of the slimy mixture. He slammed the empty flagon down and suppressed the urge to vomit. Sanji raised his one visible eyebrow, and Luffy noticed the strange swirl at the end of it, “I’m impressed,  _ your highness _ , I’ve never seen a pup as young as you down this shit so fast. Your stomach probably won’t thank you for that.” He took a gulp and wiped the foam from his mouth, some of it clinging to the scruff of dark hair on his chin.

“I’m a  _ man _ ,” Luffy replied, “I can handle my alcohol as well as any other.”

“Is that so?” Sanji said, “Then why’ve your cheeks already flushed, eh?”

Luffy made a point to ignore him which only made the other laugh hysterically, “Are you sure it’s not  _ you _ who’s drunk?” He made an effort to enunciate his words clearly, the alcohol already filling his head.

“I wish I were, but I haven’t the money to be as drunk as would please me,” Sanji sighed, draining the last of his beer.

“I’ll be sure my brother pays you well for finding me, I perhaps wasn’t handling the situation at the gates well in all honesty,” Luffy admitted, staring at the scratches in the metal of his flagon.

Sanji shook his head, “You can be honest with me, I know you’re no prince. I don’t know what your endgame is but you don’t have to lie.”

Luffy sighed heavily, “You don’t have to believe me, I don’t care. I’m starting to wonder if I even  _ want _ to be a prince anymore. I don’t exactly look like one and do I even  _ need _ to be one? Sabo is already king and Ace is next in line. The crown will never pass to me.”

Sanji looked at him, “You want to be king?”

“ _ Gods no _ ,” Luffy chuckled, “Could you imagine? Far too many rules, too much life to live.”

“That’s a good mantra,” Sanji said.

“I guess it is,” The prince agreed.

There was an amicable silence as they sat, Sanji leaning against the wall by his chair and Luffy listening to the bard sing and some of the customers talk idly. He thought how this was much more pleasant than a life amongst high walls and strict regulations. All he needed was a friend, ale, music, and adventure to be happy. Here, the world sat right at his fingertips. He could do whatever he pleased with neither his brothers nor Marco to tell him otherwise.

Suddenly a word caught his ears.

“ _ Guards _ .”

Luffy thought nothing of it at first but when Sanji immediately bolted upright, jumping to his feet, he knew something was wrong, “Sanji?”

“Look, Luffy, I’ll be honest: the royal guards and I do  _ not _ mix.”

Luffy frowned, “I don’t understand...”

But Sanji was already pushing his way through the swarm of people, heading for the back door. Luffy moved after him, shouldering people aside, “Sanji, wait!”

He was so blinded by the bodies pressing in around him that when he finally broke free he slammed straight into the plate armour and mail of a guard who immediately took a hold of his arm, “I have him!” He informed someone off to the side.

Luffy tried in vain to pull his arm free, “Let go of me!”

“It’s okay, your highness, you’re safe now.”

The prince frowned, “What do you mean? I’ve been safe this whole time! Let go of me!”

“I’m afraid I can’t, your highness, I am under strict orders to bring you to Princes Zoro and Ace,” The guard apologised and despite Luffy’s best efforts to struggle, he was dragged away.

Briefly, he caught the sight of Sanji on his knees, one guard at each arm, holding them back as another shackled them together. Luffy’s heart raced, “No! Let him go! He’s done nothing wrong!  _ Please! _ ”

He was pulled aside, perhaps a little more roughly than the guard intended, as one of the most impressive looking men Luffy had ever seen stepped forward in front of Sanji who was still held down by two guards, the one whom had shackled him now holding him at sword point. Dark skin, glinting armour, and green hair, Luffy took in the awesome sight that was Prince Zoro of East Blue. Three swords hung at his waist from a black leather belt and his skin was lined with silver scars of varying thickness. The scowl etched into his features seemed to dare anyone brave enough to challenge him and Luffy was surprised that Sanji hadn’t combusted so fiery was the prince’s gaze.

“Sanji,” The prince’s voice was dark and deep, a gravelly accent overlaying it as he spoke with such an air of authority that it hushed the entire inn into a dumbfounded silence. It was strength embodied, his words carrying as much power as the taut muscles that bulged from under his tanned skin. From below him Sanji was silent, but the expression on his face was one of genuine confusion and perhaps something akin to fear for the briefest of moments before it blazed into a fire of arrogance that settled across his features, taking place of the puzzlement.

“ _ Your highness _ ,” Sanji replied in a voice so laced with cockiness that Luffy’s heart leapt into his mouth to hear it. He had took it in jest himself when the man had called him as such, but something about Zoro’s demeanour made him fear for Sanji’s sanity and wellbeing, “What have I done now? Caught me shopping again?”

The prince’s face was as emotionless as a rock, and Luffy saw Sanji’s face fall a little in a way that suggested he wasn’t used to being met with such hostility from Zoro. The prince of East Blue again spoke, his words clear and thunderous in the silent room, “You are charged with the kidnapping of Prince Luffy of South Blue, third in line to the throne, youngest brother of Princes Ace and Sabo.”

Sanji blinked dumbly... once... twice... before his head snapped sideways and he looked at Luffy with a mixed expression of horror and shock on his face.

“You’re  _ actually _ a  _ prince?! _ ”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys, university papers and assignments got in the way and unfortunately have to have priority in my life sometimes, but I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> December is our 'off' month which means a full chapter will not be updated as Kaiisan and I will be busy with work and holiday related events but there will be another lore chapter as a holiday gift during the month at some point! Thank you for reading again and thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos, it really means so much! - mustangisinflames


	7. Matters Resolved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accusations are cleared, new friends are made, and Sanji once again escapes arrest without harm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a day late! It was technically done in time yesterday, we just didn't have any time to edit! Between my work and Mustang's uni finals we're so rushed lmao

Ace had arrived at East Blue castle in a good mood. The journey had been uneventful, the weather pleasant enough as it steadily changed from the arid, dry warmth of the South to the slightly muggy air of the East that still hadn’t quite made it into the warmer days of Spring. Prince Zoro and his adviser Lady Nico met them at the castle doors, personally inviting them inside and aiding in making arrangements for their horses and luggage. The servants took their place taking the horses to be stabled, squires took the luggage to the guest quarters and a few dainty handmaidens shyly offered to carry his cloaks and satchel for him, to which the raven-haired prince politely declined with a grin, leaving flushed cheeks and small sighs of admiration in his wake as he approached the younger Prince in front of him.

Zoro was tall, not as tall as Ace himself, but nearly the same in broadness and muscle mass. The sharp expression he wore was formal and expected of him, though Ace quickly changed that by embracing him like an old comrade.

“Zoro! My good friend, how have you been?” He felt the prince tense momentarily in his arms, perhaps unused to the contact, though he relaxed enough to give him a firm pat on the back in response.

“I am well, thank you, Prince Ace.” The taller man let go, pulling back to see that the stern seriousness had faded into a more relaxed expression, though it was still rather guarded. “I am aware of the reasons behind your visit to our humbled lands, and being that the topic is so..” he paused, just barely covering his distaste for his next words with a frown, “ _unappealing_ , shall we say, my Adviser and I would like to first invite you and your men to rest and replenish yourselves from your travels, and are currently creating a feast to be had at midday.”

Ace’s eyes gleamed at the mention of a feast, and so when his group of men returned from the stables he informed them of their orders whilst they were to remain as guests to the Eastern Royal Family, and were then led to their rooms immediately, allowing them to rest and wash up from the journey. Ace was guided personally by Zoro and Lady Nico - Robin, he had learned was her first name, many words of praise to her beauty and intellect finally granting him this knowledge. He praised her out of kindness and habit, nothing more, knowing that the Elven woman was also a top tier assassin in her own right and he did not wish to meet the end of whichever weapon she might carry about her person. Besides, he had no desires for Eastern suitors at this very moment. His mind wandered to Marco.

Ace spent his morning in his suite’s bath, a huge pool carved from the mountain rock itself, as most of the castle was, the sides in the basin embedded with East Blue’s famous faintly-glowing crystals which gave the warm soapy water soft patterns of green and blue light. He very nearly fell asleep when a knock rapped against his door, “Ser! Permission to enter!”

He tilted his head towards the noise, eyes just barely seeing the door from the curtained archway of his bathroom, only semi-pulled across.

“You may enter so long as your eyes are shut.” He replied, calmly.

The dark mahogany wood came into sight briefly as the door opened, revealing one of Marco’s recommended men striding with wide steps into the room and slowly pushing the door shut behind him. A hand and wrist was firmly covering his eyes, and the other held outwards with a scroll clasped in his grip.

“Ahh, yes, you,” Ace paused, unable to recall the man’s name. He shrugged. “A quarter turn to your right, and take three large steps, if you will.”

The soldier did as instructed, turning and lifting his feet high off the floor as he inched forward so as not to trip over anything. When he stopped, he was just before the curtained archway.

“Ser, permission to speak?”

“Yes, go on lad.”

“It would seem that Commander Marco has sent a messenger bird with a red ribbon.” The soldier reported, and Ace’s eyes widened in alarm: red ribbons were only for emergency situations. Boldly, Ace stood from the bath, hastily climbing out and fumbling for to shimmering gold yukata that was placed specifically for him to use. The folds irritated the long haired prince, and he opted for quickly tying the sash shut to cover his modesty before striding forward and yanking the scroll from his soldier.

“About turn and you may open your eyes, then leave and wait by the door,” He instructed, vaguely registering the man’s salute and quick escape. He untied the ribbon as fast as he could without tearing the paper, his damp fingers already causing the parchment to wilt, and he wiped his hands on his robes once more before he began to read:

 

_My dear Prince,_

_It is with deep regret that I inform you that your brother Luffy has escaped from the castle under my watch. It pains me to admit that I could not keep my promise to you._ _I have several teams searching the surrounding towns and cities of South Blue, although I personally suspect that he has chased after you. As he disappeared only hours after your convoy had left I would guess that he will arrive to you by the time this letter is read._ _I apologise profusely for my mistakes, and burdening you with my failures, and hope that one day I can once again prove myself to be a worthy soul-bound soldier at your side._ _I humbly beg your forgiveness,_

_Commander Marco._

 

“Soldier!” Ace called sharply, fighting to remain calm as his hands shook and a fire crept through his veins. The messenger entered the room again promptly, though quickly averted his eyes at the Prince’s state of dress.

“Yesser!?”

“Find the rest of the men and seek out Prince Zoro, inform him that my younger brother Prince Luffy has disappeared and is most likely on his way here. I will get dressed and head to the castle entrance immediately and I expect to see you and the rest of my men down there and ready with the Prince sharply, understood?” Ace snapped, his usual friendly demeanour completely void in light of the news the scroll bore. The soldier saluted abruptly and left in seconds, and Ace was left alone with the scroll.

Needless to say, his mood had soured completely at this point. Anger and fear writhed together, duelling inside his body as they vied for the position as the more dominant emotion in this situation. He slammed his door shut, pulling his yukata off harshly, pacing bare across his room and throwing his case of clothing onto the bed, furious and rigid motions pulling it open and searching out something suitable to wear. He settled on the loose, billowing pants and vest normally more suited as casual wear, though he cared not for formalities at this point. Hastily he grabbed his weapons belt and strapped on his curved dagger pouch, and as he left his suite was pleased to see a squire meet him and guide him towards the entrance of the castle, where Zoro and his men waited.

“Is it true, Prince Ace?” Zoro demanded earnestly upon his arrival.

 “Yes, it is possible that my brother may have followed me into East Blue.” The older prince inclined his head. “I apologise in advance on his behalf; he is still young with few responsibilities, and often acts before he thinks, but he’s a good lad.”

“It’s of no trouble to me, I only hope he is not in any danger.” Zoro said, placing a steady hand on Ace’s shoulder.

“Luffy is a strong and quick fighter, I have no doubt of his capabilities, it’s _who_ he might start a fight with that troubles me,” Ace sighed, yet relaxed slightly at Zoro’s reassuring gaze. They started to walk towards the castle gates, where troops of soldiers stood with Ace’s own men and waited patiently.

“I trust my people not to attack anyone of noble lineage. The people of East Blue respect the Royal Families of all countries.”

“Ah, yes, I do believe you.” Ace began, and scratched at the damp locks sticking to his neck. “It’s just that my brother firmly refuses to dress or act like a nobleman. In fact, he dresses more like a stable boy more often than not.”

Zoro paused, eyes widening. “I see how that can pose as a potential problem, yes.” He looked around, and found the two gate keepers talking idly with one of the South Blue soldiers. “You there, gatekeepers! Come here.”

The two men swiftly marched toward the Princes and bowed deeply. 

“Has anyone unusual approached the gate?” Ace demanded. “Perhaps on a white mare? Wearing a straw hat?” The description was what best described Luffy - he would never travel on any other horse besides Ivi, and was never seen without his precious hat. He was practically distinguishable on these traits alone.

The guards glanced at each other in surprise, before the one apparently in charge spoke up. “Aye, your highness. We turned him away good and proper like.”

“Turned him away!?” Ace exclaimed, turning away to fume angrily in silence. He would not lose his composure in front of his men or the people of East Blue.

“Explain yourself, right now.” Zoro demanded, and his aura grew menacing as he glared upon his orderly.

“I er…” the gate keeper began to stammer. “Well, he was an ‘orse thief, weren’t ‘e? Dressed in rags on a mare that fine and calling ‘imself a Prince? I was sure ‘e was mad and sent him on his way.”

“That supposed horse thief,” Ace took a deep breath, focusing on keeping his voice level and firm, “was my younger brother, Prince Luffy of South Blue.”

The guard gaped, eyes widening in shock and steadily building fear. “I- I didn’t know! ‘Onest! I’m beggin’ your forgiveness, your Highnesses!” he dropped to his knees, dipping forward until his forehead touched the ground by Ace’s feet.

Ace and Zoro exchanged a look, one that seemed to hold a silent conversation on its own. On the one hand, the guard had made a grave and foolish mistake, and undoubtedly spoken rudely to a crowned Prince. On the other hand, Luffy refused to dress or act like a crowned Prince, and could be easily mistaken as a commoner to anyone who didn’t know him. It was an honest mistake.

Zoro sighed. “Get to your feet. Your punishment will be figured out when the Prince is found. Have no doubt that the severity of said punishment will depend on Prince Luffy’s state of well being when he returns with us.”

The guard nodded solemnly as he rose to his feet once more.

“Is there anything else you can tell us?” Ace urged, his anger towards the guards shifting to concern for his brother. “Any clue as to where he might be now?”

“W-well,” the guard mumbled, “a man in peasant clothes approached us as I was um, requesting the Prince to leave,” he fidgeted, eyes darting off to the side, which gave Ace the impression that his ‘request’ might not have been as polite as he claimed. “Said that the boy was his cousin, and had taken the mare from their stables. And that he was, um, soft in the head, your highness.”

Ace glared momentarily, calming himself when the younger man clearly flinched.

“Anything else? What did the man look like?” Zoro demanded once more.

“Um! D-Dearskin clothing, looked handmade?” he seemed to think hard for a moment. “He spoke oddly, like with an accent, and he was pale, and he had dirty, mud-streaked hair in a half-updo, couldn’t quite tell the colour of it. Maybe light brown? And a blue eye, the other one covered up.”

The description seemed to register to Zoro, and Ace watched the information process in the younger Prince’s mind as he came to a conclusion, lips pulling into a scowl.

“I know who took him. Your highness, you need not worry, stay and relax in the palace, I will bring Prince Luffy, and his kidnapper, to you.”

“You know who has him?” Ace frowned, unsure why he didn’t feel relieved at the news. Zoro’s expression was not one of ease, despite knowing the kidnapper. Perhaps the peasant was a famous hoodlum who caused the city a lot of trouble.

Zoro adjusted his armour and swords. “Unfortunately, yes.”

 

* * *

 

Sanji walked in silence, a slight limp in his step, behind the soldier who led him through the castle by the rope binding his wrists. Soldiers surrounded him on every side, eyeing him with hostility that he could feel even without seeing it for himself. His stomach churned, an unusual coil of uncertainty in his gut as he was marched undoubtedly towards the throne room, to be brought before not only Prince Zoro, but also the second Prince of the South, Ace. He knew little of the Southern Princes, and the lack of information he had of them made him wary. His thoughts spun, trying to piece together what had happened over the hour just gone. 

He had been near the castle wall, picking up stray apples that had fallen from the tree growing beside the road, and heard the commotion easily. The boy causing the scene was young, a couple winters younger than the blond himself by appearance; dirtied and wild-looking despite sat atop an elegant and noble breed of mare. His youthful arrogance was displayed in his furrow of his brow and twisted scowl as he ordered the guards to stand aside; much to Sanji’s dismay; stating that he was a Prince. It was amusing to watch, until the boy began raising a hand in anger and it was then that Sanji thought quickly, dipping his hands into the damp soil at his feet and smearing it into his already-dirtied hair and across his cheeks. It was not a well planned disguise, but it would do.

He’d led the boy away, convinced he had surely saved the boy of the noose, and for some reason unbeknownst of him, decided to keep him company for a short while. He washed out his hair in a water trough outside of an inn whilst the boy tied his mare to the hitching rail nearby. He didn’t plan on staying long - a mare of such pedigree was surely to be of high profit to any livery - and so limited his kindness to one flagon of ale to the youngster, and from there he planned to send the boy and his presumably stolen horse back where they’d come from.

Only they’d never made it that far. Guards swarmed the inn like bugs to rotting food and before long he’d been forced to kneel on sore knees as Prince Zoro arrived to arrest him. His first thought had been along the lines of _you’re kidding me, you seriously think I’d kidnap a Prince?_ \- And then Sanji realised all at once that Luffy had been speaking the truth. He did not steal the mare, he _was_ a prince, not only that but he was the brother of the _King of South Blue_. Luffy had been ushered away before he could say much else, stubbornly resisting the restraints until he was led back to his horse, whose reins had been tied to Zoro’s own stallion. The younger boy fell silent when the dark aura of the Eastern Prince drew close and he saddled up without complaint after that. Sanji’s restraints had been tied to a soldier’s saddle and he was forced to walk the way to the castle like a dog on a short leash.

Now he was arriving at a set of tall doors, arching high above his head, and they opened from within to reveal what he supposed was the throne room. The dark stone floors and walls were illuminated with huge, suspended crystal lanterns, illuminating the tapestries and banners behind the large seating platform at the back of the room. In the centre, sat cross-legged and straight-backed atop of plush cushions was Prince Zoro, and by his side, a furious looking Prince Ace and a sullen, tight-lipped Luffy, who was now washed and dressed in more respectable robes.

The guards push him forward, and the blond staggered with a noise of discomfort. There was a moment or two of silence as the guards brought in the gates keeper too, before they turned to leave, and Sanji was left in the middle of the room, hands bound, beside the shaking soldier and with the trio of angry - and pouting - Princes glaring at them. All he could do now was what he did best: talk his way out of trouble.

“Your highnesses,” He bowed exaggeratedly, grinning at both Zoro and Ace. “If I had known I was going to be in the presence of _two_ handsome Princes, I’d have dressed a little nicer.” he gestured to his dirty apparel.

The gates keeper’s head whipped around to face him in shock; Prince Ace raised an eyebrow, appearing a mix of anger and interest, whereas Zoro’s irritation seemed to boil below his calm demeanour. Luffy looked amused and struggled to keep silent.

“You seriously mean to jest when you have been arrested for the kidnapping of a Prince?” Zoro glared at him in disapproval.

“Kidnap? I believe I did no such thing! For one, I was unaware that the boy was a Prince, your highnesses,” Sanji turned to Ace, visible eye wide with apologetic honesty. “And I deeply apologize for the assumption, Prince Ace. You see, the guards at the gate and Prince Luffy were in the beginnings of a brawl, and I didn’t want the boy in any trouble, so I made up a fitting story that would allow us to leave peacefully!”

“I would never have attacked the Prince your highnesses!” The gates keeper insisted, falling to his knees in submission, forehead to the floor.

Sanji raised a brow at the cowering man. “You and I both did not believe his tale when he arrived, you liar. You were quick to anger him, though; it was lucky that I stepped in and no-one was hurt.”

“Which you did,” Ace remarked, “by saying that my brother was ‘soft in the head’?”

“Quick thinking was needed,” Sanji replied quickly with a wince, shoulders hunching as he remembered the lies he’d spun in the moment. “And I was not the first to imply that the boy lacked intelligence. I would guess you did not fully interrogate the gates keeper once he mentioned me, your highness?” he directed the question towards Prince Zoro, whose frown deepened. The man on the floor to Sanji’s left flinched with his entire body and bowed his head to the floor, avoiding the intense glares of the Princes in front of them.

“Are you suggesting that you were simply following what was being said by the man who turned Luffy away?” Ace answered in Zoro’s place.

“He implied to be Prince Zoro himself, told the boy to fuck off for wasting his time, and suggested that he should have his tongue cut out.” Sanji replied simply, not feeling guilty in the slightest for ratting out the horrid man, who at this moment had reduced himself to a whimpering mess on the floor.

Zoro’s glare deepened, as did his scowl, and his anger seemed to move away from Sanji and towards the gate keeper. Sanji spoke again.

“I led him away and told him that he wouldn’t be let into the castle grounds in such attire, there was nothing on him to make anyone believe he was a Prince,” Sanji insisted. “I told him he should rest for a while, get some food and drink for him and his horse, and showed him to the nearest inn I could think of. That’s all that happened until you found us and arrested me.”

“Well? Is all of this true?” Ace turned to demand this question from his brother, who up until now had been sitting dutifully silent beside him. It seemed like his vow of silence was still in place as he merely nodded vigorously in place of answering.

There was a moment of silence where the two men seemed to think through what the blond had said, glancing at each other as though having a silent conversation. Then Ace seemed to sit forward with a clap, his expression going from the anger he wore initially to a neutral smile.

“Well, I believe you!” he announced, “After all, it’s true that my little brother was not dressed appropriately, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was so well-known in our own capital city he would likely also be mistaken as a commoner there as well. Plus,” he added, an expression in his gaze that seemed to draw in Sanji’s attention, “I can tell that you are not lying to me. Your body language is far too honest, almost innocently so. You wear your emotions openly.”

Sanji blinked in surprise. With a small grin, he bowed his head and replied softly, “Thank you, your highness. It’s an honour to receive such compliments.”

“I will accept Ace’s decision, though I do not believe for one second you are as innocent as you appear,” Zoro sighed. He raised a hand and a pair of guards appeared from a nearby side door. “Please escort this gates keeper to the gaol where he can stay until I find the energy to question him further.”

The guards responded silently, hoisting the man to his feet by his arms, and the quiet whimpers faded as they left the room. Alone with the Princes, Sanji was almost unsure of what was about to happen until Zoro sighed once more.

“I wish you would stop causing me so much trouble, Sanji.” he rubbed at his temple, the bite in his words all but gone now.

Sensing an opportunity, Sanji couldn’t resist. “Oh? But I was so sure that you enjoyed putting me in restraints and having me at your feet." he grin was lewd and daring, a startling enough change from his earlier behaviour that it made Ace blink in shock openly.

Zoro sputtered. “That is _not_ how your misdemeanours should be implied! You have broken laws, resisted arrest numerous times, and stolen goods from the market places on more than one occasion!”

“And yet my record is squeaky clean, as the saying goes.” Sanji wiggled his brows. “Which means that I was never found guilty. Or that -” Sanji faked an innocent gasp - “you have a spot of affection for me and released me of your own volition? Great Spirits!” Sanji raised his tied hands to his temple and swooned. Zoro groaned loudly in irritation, but not loud enough to cover the laughter of the Southern Prince.

“Gods! Is this usually how your conversations with this peasant go?” Ace wiped at an eye. “If it weren’t for the situation moments ago, I would have assumed this man was one of your court jesters.”

“What? No!” Zoro turned to Ace in surprise, formalities gone. “He is nothing but trouble to me!”

“Well,” Ace grinned once more. “If he troubles you I could take him off your hands. He is amusing.”

Both Zoro and Sanji gaped at him, though it was the blond that responded first. “I’m deeply humbled by the offer, your highness Ace, but as you can see, my heart belongs to the Mossy Prince before me.” He attempted to blow a kiss to the quickly flushing Prince, who slapped the air instinctively, much to the amusement of both the blond and the Southern Princes.

“You’re encouraging him too much.” Zoro muttered.

Ace pouted, lips jutted out in an almost childish fashion, then turned back to Sanji with a mischievous grin. “Sanji, was it? I wouldn’t worry, I think he’s just shy.”

Sanji blinked in surprise, both at the sudden friendliness of the second Prince and also that said Prince had started to play along with his little game. He chuckled. “I see! I must admit I have not yet attempted wooing him in front of an audience before. I try and keep our meetings secluded.”

“How romantic!” Ace sighed dreamily, raising a hand to his face to fan himself.

It seemed that Luffy could no longer contain himself at that point, as a sudden burst of manic laughter erupted from the youngest Prince, giggles and snorts breaking past the sleeves of his robes as he covered his mouth.

Zoro was unreadable at this point. His ears were slightly red, and he looked like he wanted to scold Sanji pretty badly, but he also seemed mildly embarrassed for having this type of banter directed at him in front of his guests. He appeared so conflicted that Sanji decided to let the teasing end there.

“Well, as much as I enjoy wooing my favourite species of Moss,” Sanji sighed wistfully. “It would seem that I’ve caused enough disturbance here at the castle for one day. If I could have my arms unbound I will happily be on my way, and leave your highnesses to enjoy your stay here at the East Blue palace.” He nodded and thanked the guard that approached him and untied the rope at his wrists. He flexed his hands, and when he was sure everything was alright he smoothed down his clothes and cloak, and bowed formally to Luffy and Ace. “It was a pleasure meeting you both. I hope we may run into each other again, although perhaps now on friendlier terms. And as for my favourite Prince,” he paused, sending Zoro a warm, soft smile whilst clasping his chest with one hand and gesturing towards him with the other, “I will be seeing you in my dreams tonight, I assure you.”

The guards opened the door for him as he turned, and he strode towards them with his head high and as steadily as he could without giving away his injuries. He didn’t look back until he heard light and quick footsteps behind him, and suddenly a set of hands had grabbed him and whirled him around.

“Don’t go!” Luffy yelled at his face, which caused Sanji to startle. “I need to apologize to you. For... causing you trouble. And you’re hurt, you need to be treated!” Luffy insisted, a hand going to the slice on his visible cheek.

“Eh? Is that true, Sanji? Did the guards do that to you?” Ace got to his feet as well, though he was less rushed in his stroll towards the blond. Zoro was a few paces behind him, and oddly quiet.

“Oh? Um, no, they didn’t.” Sanji answered quickly, eyes averted from the trio of Princes with their eyes on him. He wasn’t sure how to explain his injuries. “I got in a fight with a group of stallholders in a marketplace the other day. They said I tried to flirt with the ringleader’s wife, or something like that.” He shrugged, standoffish. “I don’t know how you can flirt in a conversation about the best way to boil pig’s trotters, but there you have it.”

“If it’s you, I’m sure you would have found a way,” Zoro muttered, and Sanji sent him a half-hearted grin.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, your Mossiness.”

Zoro glared and went silent again.

“Either way, you _are_ hurt,” Ace concluded. He glanced between the blond and Zoro. “Is there any chance we could at least treat his wounds before he has to leave? He did look after Luffy for us.”

“Yeah! And he needs a bath too!” Luffy insisted, giving a lock of Sanji’s dirtied hair a tug. The blond was sorely tempted to shove the handsy brat off of him but he didn’t want to get in trouble for real this time.

Zoro hesitated once more, unsure of what to do.

“I uh… I don’t want to be of any trouble.” Sanji held his hands up peacefully, with a curious glance in the Prince’s direction. Said Prince was as unreadable as always. “I can look after myself, and I’ll have a wash when I get home.”

“I insist!” Luffy asserted, hands going to hips. To the others he announced, “I’m making Sanji my guest! Just for tonight, he needs to be treated as kindly as me! A bath, some treatment and food!” Luffy’s stomach started to growl at the word. “And soon! So we can eat quickly!”

Zoro sighed as three pairs of eyes turned to him. “Fine, he can bathe and have his wounds treated by my court physician. And I’ll see to it that he can have some food from the feast to take home with him. I’ll consult with my advisor on that. As for actually attending the feast, though thankful we should be for him taking care of you, Prince Luffy, a man with no status cannot dine with royalty.”

Sanji resisted the urge to snort and roll his eyes. _If only you knew, Mossy._

 

 

The blond was led through the castle with a guard escort, and was eventually shown into a large bathing room, if the giant, crystal lit, walk-in pool was any indication. The guard remained outside his doorway as he was handed towels and robes by a petite handmaiden. The small woman also requested that he hand his clothes over at the end of his bath so that they could be washed, and didn’t take no for an answer before shooing him into the bath. 

Sanji was humbled by the treatment. It had been years since he was treated with any level of hospitality, let alone from royal staff. He thought back to the days of his youth; back when he could run through the halls of the North Blue palace in order to deliver secret sweets to the ladies that worked in the cleaning rooms, or bickering with the other chefs about the different seasonal meals they needed to plan for certain events. He missed the royal palace that he knew by heart, all the secret hallways and odd rooms that never seemed to be used. Being somewhere so similar yet so different brought back his nostalgia something fierce.

He shed his clothes carefully, folded them as best he could as he went, and stepped hesitantly down the steps into the floor level bath, sighing at the warmth that crept over his sore skin in the process. It was, by far, the warmest bath he’d had in years. His meager little waterfall pool was lukewarm in comparison. This bath was deep; reaching just below his nether regions in the deepest part, where a groove had been cut out along the back wall to make a seat under the surface of the water. On a shelf above the bath, small crystals illuminated a jar of finely crushed bath salts, lavender buds and rose petals, which he grabbed and inspected in the dim lighting. It smelled wonderful; the salts preserving and even intensifying the smell of roses and lavender. He tipped a small amount into his palm, returned the jar to the shelf and poured the fine salts and flowers into his bath as he took a seat.

He allowed himself to relax for a few minutes, sinking all the way into the water, up to his jawline in warmth and flowers. He untied his hair, setting the string to the side and finally submerged himself completely, feeling the dirt and grime lifting from his tangled locks as he weaved lithe fingers through them under the surface. He held his breath for a long time, eyes slowly adjusting to the temperature and texture of the water as he blinked up at the floating petals above. A few moments later he breached the surface of the water to breathe-

And promptly startled at the shriek that ensued.

“Oh Spirits! Were you drowning!? Are you feeling lightheaded?!”

A small and fairly young looking man rushed to the edge of the bath, hands pushing up spectacles to peer at him frantically. His face was boyishly young, Sanji observed, and intensely freckled. His reddish brown hair was unruly and curled, and poking out from the mess on either side of his head were.. ear tufts? Upon closer inspection, the blond noticed the unusual amounts of coarse, fur-like hair on the back of the man’s hands and forearms too.

“I’m fine,” he managed to voice out loud. “Who are you?”

The boyish man sighed deeply in relief. “Phew! I was worried! My name’s Chopper, I am the court physician here in the castle.” He started rolling up the sleeves of his white medical robes and pant legs, revealing thick leg hair too. “If you don’t mind, I’m here to give you a check-up and treat your wounds, so if it’s okay with you, I’m going to help you wash your hair and back, is that alright?” 

Sanji stared at the boy-man..physician. And at his ears, and his dark fingernails, and the fur-hair. And also at the small, protruding bumps at his hairline on his forehead. Chopper seemed to notice his silent observations and began to fidget.

“Oh, um.. Does my species bother you?”

“Species?” Sanji repeated, flushed in embarrassment for staring so openly.

“I’m Aklithian,” the younger man clarified, wringing his hands together awkwardly. “Reindeer breed specifically. I know we’re not very well-liked, so I understand if you-”

“Reindeer? Is that not a breed from the North?” Sanji interrupted, shuffling forward into the shallower water with interest.

The physician looked surprised this time, fidgeting coming to a halt. “Yes! I was born in the North Blue mountains, how did you know?”

“I..” Sanji hesitated, lowering his gaze.

Chopper seemed to think to himself as Sanji tried to figure out what to say, and stopped him with a small clap of his hands.

“Ah, don’t worry about answering that! You don’t need to tell me.” He smiled softly, pushing his round, owlish spectacles up his nose again. “So? Would you like any help washing?”

Sanji nodded simply. He was relieved that the Aklithian man didn’t pry any further. Although a wandering, nomadic race by nature, certain ‘species’ of the Aklithian race hail from certain lands, from what Sanji knew. Those that could transform into animals that normally live in very specific climates are more distinguishable than others. Reindeers, and other snow-climatised animals were typically North Blue Aklithians. However this was not common knowledge to anyone who hadn’t lived in North Blue themselves, which is why Sanji cursed himself for revealing this to the physician in front of him.

Chopper beamed, energetically revealing glass bottles of various thick liquid soaps from his medical bag. He waded into the water up to mid shin, and Sanji obediently turned to offer his back to the smaller man.

“Here, this is for your skin,” Chopper poured some cream-coloured soap into Sanji’s hands. “I’m using this on your back too.”

Sanji nodded. “Thank you.”

Chopper’s hands on his skin wasn’t unlike a normal human’s. Sanji could feel that his fingernails were harder too; thicker and slightly curved, and dark black when he caught a glimpse of them, but otherwise the sensation was the same as normal hands. He also appreciated that Chopper didn’t mention his scars. Across his back and many parts of his body were several healed marks that had gathered over the years of surviving how he did, as well as his fresh ones. He also hasn’t mentioned his burns. There were less of them on his back, though the ones across his shoulder wrapped all the way around the joint and the top of his arm, and the ones on his ribs also stretched around partially.  The ones on his thigh weren’t too bad, and also not visible under the surface of the water, but he knew at some places the scars were disfigured with additional scarring from fights and injuries.

He lathered the soap against his skin rhythmically, massaging his burned skin with gentle circles and washed the rest of his body quickly; he wasn’t too dirty but the water and soap felt really nice against his skin.

“Alright!” Chopper announced after a few moments, scooping water from the bath to rinse the lather from his back. “And now your hair! Do you mind pulling it all back for me?”

He wanted to hesitate, but after a moment he complied, pushing his fringe back from his face and allowing the physician to take control and lather his hair with a shampoo that smelled vaguely of honey. It felt like a massage, the way Chopper seemed to weave his fingers expertly around the knots in his hair, pulled out clumps of dirt without tugging his scalp, and he sighed happily.

“Massages are good for the mind as well as body,” Chopper chatted as he worked his way through the knots from end to scalp. “It helps the body relax, particularly after stressful times.”

“Interesting,” Sanji remarked, if only for something to say. He wasn’t really paying attention to anything besides leaning backwards into the soothing sensation of fingers in hair, which might have been why he was unprepared for Chopper’s next set of questions.

“Sanji…. where did you get these scars from? These burns? They are incredibly… severe.” A careful fingertip brushed his crushed helix and across his cheek, where it dropped to brush his shoulder, and then return to cleaning his hair. A part of him tensed up instinctively, and he knew that the physician noticed. He had a story planned for such occasions, although he never intended to allow a doctor to see them.

“Ahh, I got them as a small boy.” He muttered, tilting his head forward again and consequently moving his facial burns out of sight of the younger man. “It’s been so long that I don’t really remember how. It doesn’t bother me though.”

It was a lie, a blatant one at that. He knew he could not fool a man with medical knowledge, and yet he hoped that he wouldn’t question him on it. He’d already given away indications of knowing things about North Blue, things that are not common knowledge to outsiders. He knew that he could be forced to explain them if the matter were brought up to the Prince, too: refugees from North Blue were many in numbers, sure, but occasionally West Blue spies entered the country among them. And if Chopper deemed him suspicious…

“I understand, it must be a painful memory for you.” The younger man said carefully, as he rinsed the shampoo from his hair. “I do not mean to make you speak, or remember, your past trauma. I understand that it’s not an easy subject to confide about, perhaps a little more than you think.”

Sanji glanced over his shoulder at the Aklithian, who looked so young and skittish, to see aged, knowing brown eyes meet his own. He understood at once; Chopper too had had his own share of history, of painful memories and scars, even if his own were not as physical as Sanji’s. Perhaps from being an Aklithian, perhaps not, but just as Chopper refused to question him, he didn’t speak of it either.

“I see,” he murmured, unsure of what else to say. “Thank you.”

Chopper smiled back at him, small dimples forming in his cheeks. “No problem. Now let’s get you out of the water and then we can start treating you!”

He handed him a long strip of soft cloth to dry off with, then turned to give him some privacy. Sanji stepped out of the bath reluctantly, drying off as quickly as he could before wrapped the material around his waist and sat down on one of the wooden stools that Chopper had moved to the centre of the room whilst he’d been occupied. Now covered, Chopper searched through his medical supplies, and when he found what he was looking for, started to treat his cuts and bruises.

He selected a small cloth and opened a small dark jar firstly, holding the cloth to the opening and soaking the material with a quick tilt of the glass. The blond knew it would sting seconds before he felt the cloth touch his skin, though he still hissed through his teeth when it brushed a cut on his grazed knee. Chopper murmured to him, talked him through everything he did, of what medicines he used and their properties, and coaxed Sanji into a discussion about herbs and herbal remedies that distracted him as he was treated by the slender slip of a doctor beside him.

He learned that Chopper was, in fact, as young as he appeared, being barely a winter younger than Sanji himself. Once Chopper moved on to bandaging his cuts, he spoke about what he remembered of his travels in North Blue; how he missed the snowstorms there, and that summers in East Blue were far too warm for him in comparison. Sanji realised that Chopper seemed to have realised that he too hailed from the North, though he made no comment on it, and it eased the blond’s nerves a little that the physician seemed unbothered by this information. As he finished with his bandages, he returned all of his supplies to his bag and approached once more with something in his hands.

“Here, this was brought for you to wear while your clothes are washed,” Chopper handed him a folded gown, and even before he touched the material Sanji knew it was high quality. It shone like glimmering silks, the deep sea green colour hinting at a blueish undertone as he let it unfold from the hems. It was a yukata, full length to his ankles and long sleeved, and had the faintest pattern of darker green swirls along the bottom hem and the cuffs. Along the edges of the stitching was the faintest threading of gold, weaved in to make patterns along the borders of material. The sash to tie it shut was of the same darker green shade, and the collected material in his hands alone was worth more than what Sanji would eat in a year. Two years, maybe. All in all, it really didn’t feel like a ‘spare’ yukata.

He had the slightest feeling that this was Zoro’s choice of outfit for him, although he couldn’t fathom why he’d let him wear such expensive clothing.

“I… I can’t wear this,” Sanji muttered forlornly, lowering the robes from eyesight. “It’s too much. It’s too high quality for someone like me.”

Chopper looked shocked, and then sad. “Don’t say that! His highness Zoro picked this out especially, you know!”

“Why?” the blond whispered, gripping the bunched material tighter. “Surely I could have borrowed something simpler? A servant’s tunic and pants? Or not burdened him at all, and just left while I could.” His mouth twisted into an angry snarl, though it was not aimed at anyone besides himself. He was always causing trouble in some way, wasn’t he?

“It-It was what Prince Zoro insisted on,” Chopper managed, taking the robe from his tightly fisted hands and opening it up, holding it out for Sanji to slip into. “Are you going to object to his wishes?”

He frowned, but eventually put the yukata on, with Chopper’s assistance in properly folding and tying the sash. The Aklithian even produced a new length of twine for his hair, made of finer, less rough material, and Sanji managed a small smile of gratitude and he twisted it around his wrist for later, as he decided to leave his hair down over his face and neck whilst wearing these borrowed clothes - the yukata exposed more of his neck than his usual tunic, and he didn’t want anyone else pointing the burns out.

“You look great in those robes, Sanji!” Chopper grinned almost proudly at the final result, dashing around Sanji to take in his appearance from all sides. “Like you could be royal yourself!”

With him dressed and treated and hair dry for the most part, Sanji collected his bag and insisted on slipping his own shoes back on beneath his robes before they left the room. Shoes were hard to come by, especially ones for his line of work - he wasn’t about to lose them.

They didn’t make it very far down the hallway when a servant girl approached them, informing them that Prince Zoro would like Chopper to escort Sanji to one of the meeting rooms in order to discuss something of importance. Chopper gave him a concerned glance before thanking the servant and leading the blond in the right direction.

The room the pair entered was small yet spacious in appearance. It was a simple room, with a large table that held six seats, and a wall of bookshelves which was only half-full. A crystal-lit chandelier was suspended above the table, at which two people were seated: Prince Zoro and Lady Nico.

Chopper bowed immediately at the sight of them, and Sanji felt compelled to do the same, although not as deeply so that he could keep eye contact with the Prince, whose eyes he’d met upon the door opening.

“Greetings, your highness, Lady Nico. Sanji’s wounds were not severe and easily treated, he does not need any further treatment.” Chopper began immediately, and continued when Zoro gave him the indication. “Only minimal cuts and bruises, which match with his description of the scuffle that occurred.”

Sanji felt an odd sense of relief that Chopper went along with his story, and also didn’t mention his burns or scars. He guessed that it was all a part of patient confidentiality, though he would liked to have thought that the younger man was keeping quiet for his sake out of personal kinship.

“If that is all, you may take your leave, Chopper. Thank you.”

“Ah yes, t-thank you!” Sanji quickly interjected, quickly turning to the redhead beside him. “It was nice to meet you.”

Chopper beamed up at him happily. “You too! I hope we meet again!” He gave a small bow towards the Prince, and then left through the door behind them with a quiet click of the lock.

When Sanji turned back, both Lady Nico and Prince Zoro had refocused their attention on him, and so without hesitation, he took a few steps forward and allowed himself a seat at the furthest end of the table from the Prince and his Adviser.

“You look… better,” Zoro spoke softly, almost under his breath as he eyed Sanji’s form from top to bottom. The blond’s eyes widened at the compliment, and for a moment it felt personal, like Zoro really meant it, though with reluctance he scolded himself, reminded that the Prince was simply being formal and polite as always.

“Thank you for the hospitality,” he lowered his eyes to the table, trying to show his thankfulness is politely as he could.

“It’s nothing. It would seem that Chopper’s treatment and the warm bath has done you a lot of good?”

Sanji smiled innocently, having momentarily forgot that he was not alone with the forest-haired Prince. “Oh yes. The bath felt amazing. Although I would have enjoyed it more had I had you for company.”

Lady Robin raised a brow. Zoro cleared his throat awkwardly, and Sanji almost immediately felt his already warm face flush.

“It would seem that certain accusations the Prince has made of you were not a far-fetched as I first thought,” Lady Robin mused wryly, glancing between the two men with carefully neutral expression.

Sanji’s ears perked up. “The prince talks of me? I’m flattered.”

“Only to complain about you.” Zoro muttered. “Look, you’ve been called here for a proposal that we’d like to discuss with you, you’d do well to listen.”

“Yesser.”

“It has come to our attention,” Robin began, lifting some papers from the table delicately. Her long hair was weaved with smaller braids and complicated twists, strands of which she pushed back behind a pointed ear. “That there are several marketplaces in New Town that have unabashedly risen the prices of their trade goods, particularly in middle class areas. We understand that a lot of the lower class families in the area are being severely affected, and more often than not… _you_ are the one to make a stand against them.”

“M-Me?” Sanji stammered in surprise.

“Your actions as a market thief have not gone unnoticed, as you know,” Zoro chimed in terse fashion, “Though at first I had you written off as a lowly fool playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse with authority. But as my advisor often likes to remind me-” the prince gave the elf beside him a half-hearted glare - “I neglected the possible reasonings for your actions, and thought only to bring you to justice. As it stands now, having looked deeper into the situation at hand, I realise now that you were in a moral dilemma of your own and tried to change things for the people who couldn’t make the changes themselves.” Zoro sighed deeply, hands clenching and unclenching as he finally added, “While I cannot condone your actions or behaviour, particularly when you resisted arrest on multiple offences, I now have an understanding for your side of the situation, and… I thank you, for bringing this injustice of trade standards to my attention.”

Sanji remained silent, rendered speechless by the situation unfolding in front of him. This was… new. It was unbelievable, that he was essentially being thanked for being a thief. It was true that he mostly stole from overpriced vendors, and the support he had from the majority of the lower class population had saved him on multiple occasions, but he’d never expected that he could be the cause in a change for good.

“So… I um..” Sanji didn’t know what to say. “I guess.. that I helped in some way then?”

“Yes, Sanji.” Robin addressed him with a polite smile. “Thanks to piecing together the cause of your actions, we have addressed this matter to the tradesmen throughout New Town and other cities in East Blue: there is a new trade law coming into action within the next month that requires stallholders to sell their products below a certain amount; a set maximum if you will. This varies depending on the product, though each stallholder has received a copy of the list of products and their adjusted prices.”

“I see, I’m glad that I could help make these changes.” Sanji smiled, honestly happy. He thought of all the people that would benefit from this new law: families that had been struggling before to even buy enough food for a week, now being able to provide better for themselves. The woman with her two sons, whom he’d helped on several occasions, and the baker that sold bread for a ridiculous sum. All of them will experience the change.

“There is an opportunity for you to help further, if you wish.” Zoro suggested, taking a paper from the pile between himself and Lady Robin, sliding it towards the blond across the table. “I hope you can read this contract?”

“I may be lower class, but I’m not illiterate.” Sanji scowled, reaching for the paper.

Zoro had the decency to look apologetic, at least. “You’re right, I apologise. It was rude of me to assume.”

“It sure was,” Sanji muttered under his breath, not quite caring if the Lady heard him with her sharp hearing. He focused his attention on the contract in front of him; it was lengthy in its description, focusing on the new law that Lady Robin had mentioned, and his position as a member of the community amongst the commoners. It was a contract to monitor the stall holders and report the results of the new law to the Royal Adviser.

“Is this… a spy contract?”

“Informant,” Robin corrected, rising to her feet gracefully. Prince Zoro and Sanji stood with her. “You are already skilled in stealth and observation. And you know the merchants and their habits well.” Robin praised, a slight sway in her gait as she approached him with a small stack of papers. “All this job requires of you is to memorise the maximum prices for market products, and observe the stallholders, ensuring that they keep to the new prices. Anyone making complaints or ignoring the new rule and you report them to us.”

“Without,” Zoro added, also approaching him, “taking any of their goods for yourself.”

“Of course,” Sanji murmured, for once not taking the opportunity to tease the Prince. He was still reading the contract. “Does this mean I have an official job? Do I work under the name of the Prince, or the palace, or-”

“You will work for me, technically speaking.” Robin smiled calmly. “As Royal Advisor I oversee just about everything financial and political in East Blue. However, you will not only report to me, but to my ward, Lady Vivi. She is the financial adviser in charge of East Blue trade, and who you will go to for the majority of your reports, as I am often too busy for such things. I will, however, check each report in my own time. And rest assured in that I will know if your reports are inaccurate.” Her eyes glowed for a moment, and Sanji swallowed thickly with a nod.

“Of course, you will be paid as well.” Zoro added, which grabbed Sanji’s attention. “You will report to Lady Vivi once a fortnight, with a written report of your observations at different marketplaces throughout East Blue. When you hand in your report, you will be paid the amount of three Silvers.”

It was a fair payment, Sanji thought. It would mean that he could cut down substantially on his thievery, though he knew he would have to do that anyway now that he was being watched more carefully. Of course, he still had his ‘night job’ - he would carry on with that no matter what contract he made with the Prince.

“Sounds good to me.” Sanji smiled excitedly. “Can I sign it now?”

Zoro smirked back at him, although it wasn’t unkind. He seemed pleased as he turned to retrieve a quill and ink pot from the bookshelf behind him. He set them on the table beside Sanji, who quickly thrust the paper to the table and dipped the quill in the ink. It was a much finer quill than his own, and the ink was higher quality, but he signed his name with a fluid motion that seemed to surprise the Prince visibly. He handed Robin the now-signed contract, and watched them observe his finely curved signature. He couldn’t quite tell, but he thought that Robin seemed intrigued, though the momentary expression disappeared behind her polite smile once more.

“It will be a pleasure having you work for us, Sanji.” She held out a hand, and the blond instinctively lifted a hand to hold up her fingertips, bowing his head to her hand until his forehead almost brushed against it.

“Thank you, I shall do my best.”

“Excellent.” He raised his head once more when Robin pulled back her hand, and his eyes met Zoro’s as he straightened. “I shall see that a servant sets aside some food for you to take home with you before you leave.” With that, the tall, graceful woman left the room in a flutter of silk robes, and he was left with the Prince.

“You may return in two weeks,” Zoro adjusted his katanas. “Ask to report to Lady Vivi at the gate, and you will be allowed inside and taken to her. You will also be able to collect your clothes then, too.” He glanced over Sanji’s yukata-clothed figure once more. “You may keep the yukata if you wish.”

Sanji blinked, surprised once more. He was allowed to keep this? This robe was worth more than just about everything he owned, besides maybe the gemstone earring from Law. He knew he should return it when he next visited the palace… but.. He somehow got the feeling that this was one of Zoro’s. Maybe an old one, or one he’d never worn, but somehow it just felt like it was one of his personal ones rather than one kept for guests.

“This is far too fancy for a peasant like me…” Sanji murmured, his hands played with the sleeves as he inspected it. He carefully avoided the Prince’s gaze. “It is very beautiful.”

“Keep it then.”

He glanced up at Zoro then, whose expression was carefully neutral, though he shifted his weight from foot to foot agitatedly the longer Sanji stared.

Finally, he added: “It suits you.”

“Oh,” Sanji felt his cheeks warm, and he looked away, moving to collect his bag and sling it carefully over his shoulder and head. “Thank you. I will.”

Zoro nodded. “Good.”

With that, the Prince strode towards the door, leading the pair of them into the hallway and onwards, to where Sanji assumed was the entrance way of the castle, although he was sure they passed the same statue two or three times on the way. Upon arrival, Lady Robin and a servant with a small woven basket of wrapped goods.  

“Most of these are non-perishables, but some of it will expire in the next few days,” Robin informed him as the servant held of the basket for him. It was small, barely the length of his forearm, but packed to the brim with unknown goods that smelled wonderful.

“Thank you,” Sanji grinned, “And please give my thanks to Prince Luffy, too.”

“I will.”

Robin nodded her head in parting, and along with her servant, left to return into the castle. Zoro however, continued to escort him down towards the gates, where new sentries had been assigned.

He spoke with them quietly, Sanji watched. The sentries glanced at him occasionally, and at his attire, before nodding and bowing towards the Prince and returning to their stations. Zoro approached him once more.

“I have given orders to allow you passage into the castle once a fortnight from today onwards.” Zoro announced, and began leading Sanji through the gates.

“Ah, thank you, your highness.” Sanji continue to grin. “For everything today; the bath, the robes, the food, the-”

“-Tying you up and accusing you of kidnapping a Prince?” Zoro raised a brow.

Sanji paused a moment, shocked that the normally stoic royal would make a joke, before he bursted out in laughter, gut wrenching and loud. Unbeknownst to him, Zoro watched his unconcealed amusement like a hawk, his own heartbeat thrummed against his ribs.

“Hmm, yes, in a way.” Sanji wiped at his eyes, grinning cheekily at the golden-eyed man opposite him. “And by the sounds of it you enjoyed it too, huh?”

Zoro sputtered. “Wha-? No! Not in the way you mean!”

Sanji laughed even harder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so IMPORTANT:  
> This will be the last 'story' update of the year! THanks to everyone who's been reading!!  
> The next update will *hopefully* be for New Years, and another Lore chapter! Expect some spooks. (maybe)  
> Anyway, December + January are our 'holiday' months - we're gonna take some time off to really power through some writing and try and get ahead of the game again!! So we don't continue to be late like we have been recently lmao..
> 
> ANYWAY, thank you to everyone who reads, comments, bookmarks and subscribes!! Y'all are the best <3
> 
> Have a good holiday!!


	8. Childhood Memories: Law - Sanji's 12th Birthday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!  
> This is late  
> and it's also not a lore Chapter BUT  
> I like it  
> and I hope you do too!  
> -Kaii

It was the beginning of the new seasons once more. Winter was melting away into Spring, returning once again to the start of the cycle. Plants were growing green and bright, crops and fruits were taking shape, and despite the snow that was present until almost mid-summer up on the mountain tops, the air feels lighter, fresher and almost warmer. There’s more wildlife to be seen, baby animals being born and many young children experiencing the new flowers for the first time. 

For Law, it is a day like any other. He wakes with the sun, eats the breakfast that is brought to his room by Sanji, does some self-study on his medical revision for a couple hours until lunch, where he joins Corazon in the library as they talk together about trivial things and what Law would study next. His father quizzes him on his previous lessons, and when he has answered a sufficient amount correctly, the King grins at him with his huge smile, praising him and rewarding him with an overly-affectionate hug that made Law squirm. Together they spend an hour or so after lunch in the library at the desks, with the King teaching Law on the next part of his studies. After finishing his notes to study later, Law leaves to go to outside and Corazon goes to his next meeting. Law notes his irritation at having to make appointments with his own father, and then pushes it away - Corazon was the  _ King _ and naturally quite busy. 

Usually, when he goes to his private training ground, there would be an instructor waiting for him, and they would warm up together and practice. Today, there was someone else there - Sanji.

“Prince Law!” the young blond exclaims, one foot poised at the training dummy’s head, knee level with his face as he bent to accommodate the angle. He dropped his stance immediately and bowed. “I’m sorry that I’m using your training grounds without your permission!”

Law waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it, it seems you were putting it to good use anyway.” 

Sanji nods, though still seems a little flustered. 

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” Law asks, mildly curious. Sanji had an unusual position in the castle despite being a servant; due to being Law’s close friend and often personal aide, the younger boy had several oddities in his rules and regulations - he was allowed to wander the castle as he pleased, as long as he was with either Law or his adopted father Zeff, or acting in lieu of the Prince when he was too busy; a messenger boy of sorts. He was also taught to read and write, lessons the Prince gave himself between studying sessions, as well as sign language which was taught to all North Blue soldiers to use in silent operations and infiltration. All in all, Sanji had a slightly higher position than a regular servant, albeit a servant none the less, and was also Law’s closest friend.

“Zeff gave me the day off from cooking today,” Sanji mutters with a small frown. 

“Why’s that?” It was certainly odd; Zeff worked the lad hard despite being his adoptive father, and Sanji appreciated it, he felt like Zeff relied on him doing his best and working hard, that he’d gained his respects that way. 

“Ah, it’s no big deal, really..” Sanji kicks lazily at the dummy. “Just my birthday.”

“Oh! Is it really so early in the spring?” Law is a little surprised; Sanji had joined the palace staff a few years ago now, and he only now learns of his birthday. Though from Sanji’s behaviour it was clear that he didn’t view it as much of a special occasion and purposefully left it unannounced until now.

“Yes,” blond strands of hair fall into his face as he nods, and he tries to push it behind his ear. He was in the process of growing it out to cover his eye, and at the awkward stage of not quite tucking back. His fingers brush against his silver studs and Law watches them glint with mild interest.

“I see, happy birthday then Sanji.” Law smiles, and the blond smiles back only half earnestly. “Is there anything you might wish for?”

Sanji’s smile drops. “I-I could never ask for a present from you, your Highness!”

“You can drop that,” Law sighs, the boy’s habit for formality lingering when stressed. “As your friend, I would like to do something for you, is that not too much to ask?”

Sanji pouts, unsure of what to say. “I don’t really have anything I need though? And Zeff is making me a cake, I’m pretty sure that’s why he kicked me out of the kitchen.” 

Law thinks for a moment, if there’s ever been a time where Sanji acted interested in anything of his that he could give him. Nothing really sprang into mind, although an idea popped into his head as he watched Sanji fiddle with his earrings again..

“Say, come with me a second!”

He leads the way to his room, taking his personal set of stairs. Sanji keeps up with him easily, and almost eagerly, as they bound up the steps. At the top, Law feels a little winded, and Sanji bounces on the spot next to him as energetic as ever. He leads the way into his room, letting Sanji close the door behind them politely and instead makes his way to his jewellery box. He’s sure he has one here...yes!

He picks up a small rectangular box and opens it for Sanji to peer into. Resting inside are several large, turquoise earrings, of various shapes and sizes and patterns. They were thicker than normal earrings, like Law’s red heart earring made of thick cut ruby, and usually worn after the ear had time to stretch up to the correct size. 

“Pick one of these, and it’s yours,” Law told the birthday boy, who approached and viewed the box cautiously. His eyes widen as he takes in the jewellery; he knew that his friend would sometimes eye the boxes upon his dresser with a little jealousy, envious that he could not wear such fine colours as a servant. He also knows that blue was Sanji’s favourite colour, and that was why he’d decided that this would be his present. 

“Are you serious?” is the exclamation he hears, and he grins, nodding. Sanji’s surprise is immense, to the point where he fears the boy might pass out in shock. However, the fear subsides as the blond cautiously lifts a hand and reaches into the box, removing a turquoise spiral earring. It was quite thick, though not as thick as some of the gems, spiralled almost delicately, and was patterned with stripes of darker blue that resembled waves if one looked hard enough. 

“If it’s okay, could I…?” Sanji glanced up at him, concerned.

Law sets the box down to the side. “Let’s get you peirced!” 

The process is going to be slightly uncomfortable, Law knows, so he allows Sanji to sit on his bed and clutch one of his pillows. He grabs his stretching kit from one of the other small boxes and sits cross-legged opposite the smaller boy. He removes the silver stud from Sanji’s left ear, as per the blond’s choice of ear. He then takes the smallest stretcher, one size up in thickness from the stud, and dips it into a pot of stretching lubricant and pushes it in. It goes smoothly until the thickest part, and there’s a small hiss from the blond. Quickly, Law uses his healing magic to soothe the stinging pain as well as heal the newly stretched skin around the stretcher, and takes it back out again. Sanji fusses with it, complaining that he barely feels the difference.

“Trust me, you’ll notice once it’s big enough to stick your pinky finger through it,” Law laughs, and Sanji gulps.

They repeat the motion with the next few stretchers; pressing it in, healing, removing, and repeating the motion with the next size. Half an hour goes by, and the slow process finally reaches the stage where Sanji’s pinky suddenly appears on the other side of his earlobe.

“Okay, this is both cool, and yucky.” Sanji murmurs, feeling a little tired from the discomfort of the stretchers and the quick healing sessions. 

“Last one, I promise, it isn’t even going to hurt.” Law whispers back, and slips the spiralling gem into the new hole in Sanji’s ear. It twists in smoothly, barely registering to the boy in front of him until he lets go and the weight settles on his lobe. He hands over a small mirror to show him. 

“This is my present for you,” he says, honesty making him solemn as he tries to voice what he prepared in his head whilst stretching Sanji’s ear. “This is your reminder. You always have, and always will, be more than just a servant. You are better than a servant. Your compassion, loyalty, honesty, energetic spirit is worth more than your status. You are one of the kindest, funniest, and smartest kids I know, even more than some Princes I’ve met,” Law smiles at Sanji, whose blue eyes were beginning to water in surprise. “This is to remind you are not just a servant to a Prince, and that for me, you will always,  _ always _ be my best friend.”

Tears spill over and drip onto the cushion he was clutching, but Law doesn’t mind.

With a sniff, Sanji manages a smile, and chokes out, “You’re my best friend too, Law, thank you so much.” 

“It’s a promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanna eventually add a bit of art to this, so stay tuned! I hope you enjoy, please comment if you do!  
> Proper chapter will be posted (hopefully) 1st Feb!
> 
> Hope you guys have a good 2017!


	9. Blood and Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile... in an old, forgotten land...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kaiisan here updating on behalf of mustang!!! 
> 
> NEW CHAPTER WOOOOOOO
> 
> Also small update: we understand if this will be upsetting/annoying for some, but we've accepted the fact that monthly updates aren't likely to continue. Mustang's reaching the end of her uni year and needs to finish all her project and assignments, and I've got work as well as my other fics to work on, and we're NOT giving up on this fic, but we ARE extending the update rate to every 2-3 months.  
> It's not great, but its a more likely promise we can keep rather than not meeting the monthly one.
> 
> With that please enjoy the newest chapter!

The morning was a bitter one and, try as he might the damned dogs would not take the scent. They barked and yelped, twisting and pulling at the toughened ropes tied to their collars. The lead dog, a black and white bitch, seemed to be the only one making an effort, paws swiping at the snow as she snuffled while the pack writhed around her.

Though Zeff had lived in North Blue all of his life, he could not recall a spring as deathly cold as this. The ground was coated in a layer of snow, almost knee depth in some places, and the icy winds sent painful aches to the stump that ended his right leg just below the knee where the wooden prosthetic started. Beside him his horse, a mare as white as the snow itself, whickered nervously as the dogs continued to make a fuss. Zeff pulled the ropes harshly, muttering to himself, “Blasted mongrels.”

He hoped quietly that the dogs would not catch the scent but eight years of service to a usurper king had taught him better. Long gone were the days of being safe in the warmth of the castle kitchens and gruelling were the ones spent being a tracker. He supposed that Doflamingo had given him the job to test his loyalties after all; hunting down and killing people he’d known personally for trying to escape was a perfect test of mettle and Zeff never faltered in his work. He didn’t enjoy it by any means, but survival was preferable when under a tyrant.

The bitch lifted her head and howled forlornly and Zeff assigned himself to his fate; she’d caught the scent. He untied the dogs with gloved but sure hands, the beasts snapping and yowling and bolting off after the bitch that’d already started running through the snow. Zeff seated himself on the saddle and followed suit, casting a glance up to the sky that was grey but clear of cloud; there would be no fresh snow to cover his target’s tracks. It was a small blessing which meant he could soon be back at the stronghold with a fire and hot wine.

Trees streaked past, nothing but blurs of green and black, and the dogs were no longer in his sights but the trail was still visible. His mare was heaving breaths, steam blasting from flared nostrils and mouth beginning to lather. Soon enough the dogs were getting louder and Zeff knew he’d found his man.

The beasts had made a loose circle as Zeff rode up and he could see the man they’d trapped within it. He was young, scrawny, hair as wild as his eyes as he tried to run only to leap out of the way of the teeth that snapped at him. There was something about him that reminded Zeff of a boy he once knew but he drew his sword out all the same; he would not allow sentiment to get in the way. Either Zeff brought the boy’s head back or it would be his own mounted on the spikes.

Crying out in frustration and fear- mainly fear- the boy fell to his knees, choking on his tears, “Please,  _ please _ , have mercy!”

Zeff was unfazed; they never understood that this _ was _ mercy. Very few men alive had survived out in the freezing wilderness alone and Zeff was one of those who had. There was a reason why parents taught their suckling babes to never leave the safety of a walled settlement or stray from the main road when riding: their country was a slow and painful killer. He pulled the horse about slightly and held out his blade, “Let me make it dignified, I will permit you that honour.”

“ _ Please _ ...” The boy wailed and his trousers were soaked with melted snow and something else from the blossoming patch on his crotch. Most of them had pissed themselves in the end. _ A memory of a boy, younger than this one before him, crying as he held out a scraped and bloody hand. _

“It will be swift,” Zeff vowed and his blade reflected the sky above, grey and mournful. He adjusted his grip slightly and levelled the weapon, “Die like a man.”

For a moment the boy appeared to have strengthened his will before it crumbled under him and he turned tail, bolting so fast the dogs taken by surprise and unable to react. Zeff grimaced, of course the boy had to be one of  _ those _ . He spurred the horse forward and caught up in brief seconds, the mare’s legs easily outpacing the lad and Zeff brought the sword down hard, the angle causing it to sink deep into the boy’s back and he crumpled to the ground with a strangled cry. Zeff tugged the weapon out as he galloped past to halt and bring the horse around. The boy was still alive, gasping for breath as he lay face down in the snow and the thick metallic stench of blood caused Zeff’s mount to shy away with a frightened whinny. He slid off the saddle onto the ground, sword still in hand.

“My legs!” The boy whimpered, “I can’t... I can’t feel...”

Zeff was unsurprised, the blow had been strong enough to sever the spine, but he retained some guilt at not having been able to deal a swift one that was cleaner. 

_ The little boy with golden hair and blue eyes, crying in pain as he tended his wounds.  _

_ “You silly boy.” He’d said. _

Zeff raised the blade point down and drove it deep into the squirming boy’s back, scraping between ribs and holding fast as the other thrashed weakly, spewing blood from his mouth onto the ice white beneath before falling limp. He waited a moment and withdrew from the now dead body.

“You silly boy,” Zeff said.

 

It was some hours before the stronghold came into view, a dark blemish on the white ground, and Zeff had adjusted to the temperature that had still not improved. The body he now carried was thrown over the horse’s shoulders and the dogs trailed around him, five aside and now free of their ropes: they would no doubt need feeding soon. The stronghold was the scatterings of what remained of the town of Vivienne, some of it lost to the siege of the usurper king when his army, having moved on from the castle, tore through looting, torching, murdering and other such terrible things. Zeff had been a prisoner then, stripped of everything, and when he saw the power of King Doflamingo he had done what many others had: pledged allegiance and bowed the knee.

Around the outside of the town was a dug out ditch that ran the whole perimeter, the stone walls behind guarded by a forward layer of immense wooden stakes carved from whole pines, their sharpened ends facing outwards as an unspoken threat to all. Zeff’s horse plodded along the timber bridge with heavy hooves and he passed under the arched gateway unchallenged. Immediately some boys, under the work of the kennels, collected his dogs, their eyes deliberately averted from the dead body. Zeff knew what they thought of him and paid it no mind as he continued, keeping the mare at a steady walk.

Pressing in from both sides was a haphazard collage of buildings and ruins. Some houses remained for the most part untouched bar the odd smashed window or shattered roof tile and they loomed over him sinisterly as though judging his every move. Splashes of deep magenta, the colour resembling that of freshly cut meat, bore a stark contrast to the slate stonework in the form of the army tents, held taut and rigid by wooden frame work and dirtied ropes. From every one flew the banner of King Doflamingo, three pink plumed feathers on a sharp white field, and each tent had more men buzzing round it than flies around a horse’s rear.

“Returning late, aren’t we?”

The man had slipped in beside his horse with the grace and ease of the snake that he was. Zeff looked down on Caesar Clown disdainfully, thinking how such an unfortunate name suited such an unfortunate looking man. Caesar was tall and gangly, all angles and edges as sharp as his tongue which made any item of clothing he wore look poor and ill-fitting, and his long hair was knotted and as black as coal. His pale face was gaunt and sly, a face that fit a man who was as cunning as a rat. Zeff answered him curtly, “This one tried to run.”

“Another one?” Caesar pried and began to laugh, a horrible wheezing sound that hissed between his yellowed teeth, “Tell me how he screamed. Did he beg? I bet he begged. They  _ always _ beg.”

Zeff’s skin crawled. Before all of this, Caesar had been a prisoner in the castle dungeons, locked up facing trial and inevitable execution for the torturing and murder of children. When Doflamingo overthrew Corazon though, all prisoners had been released and excused of their crimes so long as they pledged their allegiance to the new king. If he ever got the chance, Zeff had sworn to himself that he would kill him. For now, he paid him no mind.

“I’m surprised you’ve kept it up this long,” Caesar sneered, “Soon you’ll be as hated as me.”

Zeff said nothing in response, his horse pressing on and the body in front of him bouncing with every hoof fall. He made no effort to hide the disgusted look on his face when Caesar began poking and prodding at the corpse, scrutinising its face and the festered wounds on its back.

“He  _ was _ a young one. I bet he thought he was so  _ brave _ for trying to escape.”

“Foolish, more like.” Zeff replied, his hot breath steaming in the cold air.

Caesar carded his fingers through the boy’s hair, a matted mess of dirty blond strands, and Zeff felt his spine shiver with unease at how entertained the other was by a corpse; it was worse than unsettling. A smile graced the man’s lips, “Looks an awful lot like your boy did, doesn’t he? Was it hard to kill him?”

Zeff sucked in a sharp breath. Sanji felt like a lifetime ago but he was dead now, perished in the flames along with Prince Trafalgar. His chest twisted until an awful pain made him almost wince. He had numbed himself long ago to that loss but sometimes it resurfaced in the faces of the young children or a phrase that little boy had once said and when it did, it was agonising. He wouldn’t allow Caesar the pleasure of having jarred him so, nonetheless his fingers tightened on the reins until his knuckles whitened, “Why don’t you scurry on back to your nest, you vile creature. I’m sure the king is eager to be entertained by his trained rat.”

The words had their desired effect and Caesar’s mouth curled in a cruel snarl, “How  _ dare  _ you speak to me like that, I-”

With the quickness of a true arrow, Zeff drew his sword and held the point at the other’s throat, the mare halting. The folded steel was as cold as the freezing air and bit just as deep if he allowed it, “I suggest that you don’t speak to  _ me _ like that. In fact, you will never speak to me again unless I invite you to do so. I never want to hear your vile little voice ever again and if you so much as  _ look _ at me in a way I don’t like, I will have the dogs rip out your throat. Now, am I understood?”

There was fear in Caesar’s eyes but his arrogance still betrayed him, “When the king hears about this he’ll have you hanged.”

Zeff angled the blade lazily, unfazed when it caught the other’s skin and drew it open slightly, “I’ve no doubt he’ll hear about this, but let me ask you, out of the two of us, who do you think he values more?”

Caesar was breathing heavily, air hissing through his gritted teeth.

“You, a runt who trails after him like a lost pup? Or me, hunter and executioner of those who disobey him with no questions asked?” It was an obvious answer and he could see that Caesar knew it from the way his expression twisted angrily and his eyes glinted. Zeff withdrew the weapon as swiftly as it had appeared, pulling his cloak back over his shoulder to obscure the hilt from where it was sheathed. He faced forward in the saddle, keeping the reins held firmly in one hand, “Get out of my sight, Caesar.”

The other man hissed something under his breath but Zeff didn’t care for it, spurring the horse onwards to the fortress that sat in the centre of Vivienne, and leaving the poor excuse for a man far behind him. Having all but razed North Blue’s castle to the ground so many years ago, Doflamingo had holed himself up in the old building instead. The walls were jet black, the stones mottled by wind and snow, and the archway gate was wrought iron, the bottom ending in wickedly sharp points. It stretched ominously upwards as though it could reach the heavens themselves, a standing defiance to the gods, and Zeff would have been lying if he’d said it didn’t instil fear into those that stood in its shadow.

Ravens screeched indignantly as he rode up to the entrance, bringing his eye to the rather macabre garb that Doflamingo had decided to decorate his residence with. In place of the typical banners were bodies, strung up by ropes and hung from the walls, the corpses moving with both the influence of the wind and the birds that clustered over them. Some of them, though bloated and rotting, he recognised as people he had killed himself, others he wasn’t as familiar with. He watched with an unreadable expression on his face as he caught sight of a guard ramming a decapitated head onto a pike where it would join the others on the lookout posts, all smothered in tar to keep the features fresh. The horse passed under the archway and he was forced to look no more.

He brought the mare about in the courtyard and unseated himself from the saddle, grabbing the dead body and laying it on the ground with a thud – people became insufferably heavy when they died. A stablehand gathered the reins and took his horse aside as a guard confronted him, “Back so soon, Zeff? He couldn’t have got far then.”

Zeff grunted, not bothering to give an actual response and snatched up the dead boy with a tightened fist in the collar of his clothes. There was no point in respecting the dead, not when he knew the boy’s head would soon be hacked from his shoulders and shoved onto a spike, so when the doors were hefted open he dragged the body in after him as though it were a sack.

The inside of the fortress was dark, dimly lit by numerous candelabras and torches that were driven into the walls but the black stone seemed to absorb any and all light that hit it, drinking it in greedily. There were many guards despite the fact that there were very few who would try to make an attempt on Doflamingo’s life. Those who would have dared now hung up outside for all to see. Zeff hated to admit it but the usurper had certainly made thorough work of crushing those who would rebel and bribing those that could be bought. His wooden leg clocked the stone floor in a steady rhythm as he walked and the body made a scuffing sound as he hauled it along. A few of the guards side eyed him from the doorways, watching his steady approach to the large stained oak doors that led to the large mess hall. Zeff grabbed one of the iron handles, icy cold to the touch, and turned it, shouldering one of the doors open. He was indifferent to the lack of help offered to him; though he worked for the usurper, he had still once served Corazon and it seemed that no soldier from West Blue took kindly to that.

He limped into the room, not waiting for an announcement to be made on his behalf. His false leg clacked on the hard floor, loud and echoing in the silence that overhung his intrusion. The room was nothing more than a glorified mess hall, garbed in the guise of a throne room. It may have been eight years since Doflamingo had claimed the throne of North Blue, but he’d razed the castle with it and such grand buildings aren’t replaced so quickly. The throne in the room itself was the original Corazon had once sat upon but it was blackened and tarnished by the heat of the flames. Zeff could almost envision that night, Law and Sanji burnt to ash. They’d only been boys. 

There the usurper was though, lounging in the chair as though it resembled nothing. An intrigued look flashed across his eyes and the corner of his mouth lifted slightly in a smirk when his gaze landed upon the dead boy being dragged before him. Zeff didn’t falter in his walk, head held high as he dropped the corpse to the ground as though it were nothing more than a sack of grain.

“Done, Sire,” Zeff said tersely as the king rubbed at his lower lip with the fingers of one hand thoughtfully. In the pale light of the chamber, which was only lit by the six arched glass windows, Doflamingo’s white decorative armour seemed to shift and change with the play of shadows so one moment he was donned in grey, then silver, then white enamel once more. His cloak had bunched slightly from his sitting position, the pink exotic feathers sewn together to form it giving him the impression of a rumpled bird. Blond hair drawn back from his angular face fell to one side, stopping short at the nape of his neck. The years seemed not to have aged him at all and something in Zeff’s chest ached when the king smiled and, briefly, looked like his brother Corazon.

“Not that I’d expect anything less from you,” Doflamingo said, moving his gloved hand away from his mouth. Gesturing sharply, two guards from the shadows by the doors move and gathered the body up between them. The king spoke to them briefly, “Take his head off, mount it wherever you find space. The body can go in one of the cages over the side; the birds must be desperate for something fresh. I rather like having the ravens around, don’t you, Zeff?”

Zeff inclined his head in non-committal agreement as the boy was taken away. The moment he could no longer see the body he had made, he felt as though he could breathe once again; a great weight lifted from his shoulder without his realising it had been there. It happened every time and yet it always came as this great event, a sudden release of emotion. This time it felt more intense and he had to refrain himself from letting out a pained gasp. Normally there remained an element of detachment from his job but this time it was different, the blond hair, the young age... it had all cut so deep. Killing that boy had felt like driving a sword through Sanji himself. That thought darted into his mind with such savagery that he winced as if he’d been struck and he had to compose himself swiftly as Doflamingo turned to him.

“I hear you’ve been making threats to cut Caesar’s throat open,” The king said blankly, it wasn’t a question at all.

Zeff tensed slightly but under his furs it was barely noticeable, “He lets his voice run too much sometimes, Sire.”

Doflamingo laughed but it was a cold, heartless sound devoid of any emotion. Zeff felt as though the king had heard people laughing one day and tried to mimic it ever since to no avail, “Shame you didn’t- he bores me with his incessant whining.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“That’s why you’re to take him with you on your next little assignment.”

“Next assignment, Sire?” Zeff’s bones cried out at the thought of yet more riding in the freezing cold and somewhere in the back of his mind he wept at the idea of having to take Caesar with him.

“I need a stronghold placed by the castle. Our finances have settled and I have left the place piteously guarded for too long. I must seize total control of the area if my carpenters and stonemasons are to have any chance of rebuilding the place,” Doflamingo placed his fingers together like a steeple, “You will take a small part of my army, some scouts, footmen, knights, and the like, and create a settlement there reporting back to me on anything that happens – and I mean  _ anything _ .”

Zeff held the usurper’s gaze unfalteringly as Doflamingo scrutinised him, leaving him feeling exposed and raw, like everything about him was on display, clear as day.

“Yes, Sire,” He all but managed to force out.

“Good, you leave on the morrow at first light.”

Aware of the finality in the king’s tone, Zeff bowed and turned to leave.

“Oh, and Zeff?”

“Sire?”

“Let us hope that nothing happens to Caesar whilst he is away, truly it would be  _ tragic _ if anything were to happen to him.”

The look in the king’s eyes and the smile on his face made Zeff’s skin crawl uncontrollably, the intonation clear in Doflamingo’s icy voice.

“Yes, Sire, truly tragic,” He replied.

The sky had started to darken when he made his way outside into the courtyard, the black of night bleeding into the overcast sky so that it appeared bruised and swollen, the clouds slowly inching past on the now light breeze. It was still snowing lightly, the small flakes smoothing over the disturbed snow so that it was pure and settled once again. Zeff almost felt bad having to trudge through it to retrieve his mount.  The white mare whickered as he approached and he was pleased to see she had been watered and fed a warm mash of oats to stave off the chill. Her coat had been buffed and rubbed down with hay and when he took her by the reins she stamped her hooves, determined to remain standing where she was, warm and sheltered. He could scarcely blame her.

After hushing her and placing reassuring hands on her neck and sides, she eventually allowed him to lead her away though she kept casting longing looks back as her hoofs touched snow and her body was met with the chill of the evening. Zeff climbed up into the saddle and urged her onwards back the way they’d come in.

At night it seemed for the entire world as though Vivienne had never been captured and overrun by Doflamingo’s masses. The streets were empty and that special kind of quiet that only occurred when one was walking alone in the snow permeated the air. There were a few windows glowing with gentle candlelight, casting amber squares out onto the white powder that covered the ground.

Sanji had always loved the snow.

He could almost imagine the little boy as he once was, riding alongside him. Zeff had only managed to teach the basics of horse riding to him, but from the first lesson it was obvious that Sanji would have made a naturally great rider. As he pushed the mare into a trot, covering the last of the distance to his home, Zeff cast his mind to all the things he had wanted to teach his son. The young boy may have been adopted, taken in by the castle kitchens, but he had soon wormed his way into Zeff’s life and, ultimately, his heart.

Zeff’s house was a meagre building but it was enough for one. He boxed the mare into the small, one stall stable connected to the side and made sure she had enough food and water for the night before covering her with a rough but warm woollen blanket. He shucked off his furs as soon as the door shut behind him and pushed the bolt across. The small house was just as cold as it was outside but a fire would soon heat it up. He knelt before the fireplace and started packing it with a heap of kindling, catching it aflame and slowly feeding it until it was able to take small logs.

Struggling for a moment to get to his feet, the stump of his maimed leg aching and sore from being in the cold all day, he collapsed onto the simple bed beside the fire. Beside the bed, as there had been for the last eight years, was a bow, the arched wood hooked around one of the bedposts at the head where Zeff only had to look up from his pillow to see it. It was a small weapon, not to be used by someone of Zeff’s size and stature but for someone smaller and younger.

For Sanji.

He’d had it made a few days before the feast all those years back, but they’d both been so overwhelmed by the festive preparations that he hadn’t had the time to tell Sanji, to show him and promise to teach him how to hunt. Now it served no purpose other than a constant reminder of how things had once been and all he had lost. He had waited and stewed and festered over all that the usurper had taken from him; had earned Doflamingo’s trust despite the unspeakable acts he had committed to get there. And now he was to take a small army to the castle and set up camp and correspondence. Now was his chance to contact the rest of the world beyond the borders of North Blue and, through the grace of the gods, he had been given the opportunity to dispose of Caesar Clown once and for all. Zeff admitted, it wouldn’t be quite as satisfying as killing Doflamingo but chances weren’t to be missed. He’d already built himself up this far, it was just a little further to go – the end goal was within sight.

His fingers brushed against the drawstring as he lay against the mattress and he felt a wave of newfound determination within himself. He would destroy the usurper’s army from the inside out with no mercy. Caesar Clown’s death would just be the beginning.

He would kill Doflamingo, whatever the cost. He  _ would _ kill him.

For North Blue, for King Corazon, for Prince Law –

For Sanji.

Most importantly for his son.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments would be greatly appreciated, see you in a couple months!


	10. Two Sides of the Same Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the poor meets the rich, the rich meets the poor, and Zoro feels an unexpected change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mustang here posting Kaiisan's chapter for her because she's gone and wrecked her keyboard by spilling a drink all over it haha
> 
> My chapter is next and writing is already under way for it as I'm finished with university until September now. Thank you for being patient and reading and we both hope you enjoy the chapter!

Sanji hadn't realised that his new job as an informant would be quite so… _dull_. Memorizing the list of goods and their new prices was fairly simple, and he kept a note of them in his pocket just in case, but beside that all he had to do was browse market stalls and feign interest in the products there.

Some stallholders were, understandably, wary at first; recognizing him as the well known market thief. However, they calmed when the blond made genuine purchases here and there and talked loudly with the villagers about having been let off with a warning instead of imprisonment, and exaggerated his charges if he were ever to be caught stealing again. It encouraged the shoppers around him to laugh and chatter about it, and soon the news of the thief’s antics being brought to a stop travelled with him wherever he went.

Every stall he visited upheld the new laws, it seemed. Not all looked particularly pleased about it, but there were happier faces amongst the townsfolk. Poor mothers looking relieved, children being able to afford sweet buns with their pocket money, larger families being able to purchase more than just bread in bulk. Everywhere he went, he could see the positive effects of this law, and the pride bursting in his chest brought a smile to his face.

He’d helped to make this happen.

He’d done something right, and it was helping families throughout the country, not just those he could reach with his own hands. Peasants of varying ages from all towns pulled him aside to thank him, as if they knew he’d helped bring the change, and there was no roaring fireplace that could match the warmth he felt from being embraced by thankful villagers.

A fortnight passed without much interest, and Sanji wrote up his notes and recordings of the towns that he’d visited; neat script and clean parchment suitable for the Royal accounts, he hoped. He folded the papers and tied them with red twine, tucking them safely into his bag as he saddled Apricot - he'd yet to part ways with her, though he knew he should, but he'd grown fairly fond of the mare - and he rode down the mountainside towards the castle gates. He tied her out of sight, away from the potential questioning guards.

“State your business,” a guard called out to him as he approached, taking a step towards him. _Security at the castle has certainly been improved_ , he thought to himself.

“Sanji Black, here to report to Lady Vivi.” He replied calmly, patiently waiting for the guards to exchange the typical glances and murmurs and check their records.

“Step through, sir.” After a moment they open the gates and allow him inside the looming stone walls via a small wrought iron doorway within the giant bars of the main gate. “Please approach the doors and wait for assistance.”

Assistance came in the form of a young and windswept looking maid with warm brown skin and hair and sunny smile. As if she knew who he was and what he was visiting for, she led him through to the South Wing of the palace, up winding stairways and into the archives, which were divided into smaller rooms for various departments, and in one such room his presence was announced to his boss, Lady Vivi.

The woman at the desk in front of him was stunning, to say the least.

He knew from the moment they met eyes that she would be kind to him, kinder than most other Royal wards he’d met in the past. Warm cocoa brown eyes gleamed at him as she lifted her head, and a few soft, sky-blue locks shimmered brightly where visible from under her silver-patterned headscarf as she rose fluidly from her seat to grace him with a beautiful smile and extend her hand.

“Sanji, I’ve been expecting you,” she said softly, polite, poised and all grace. Her dress was long, a matching silvery-blue and in traditional South Blue style; layers of robes and sashes and magnificent stitching covering her from the neck downwards. A glittering blue gem caught the light as it sparkled on the ring finger of her left hand, and he stepped forward to bow and shake her fingertips delicately.

“My Lady, I’m honoured to be working with you.” A formal response, one which he offered with a polite smile of his own.

“Likewise, I’m sure our work will be interesting,” Vivi smiled, retracted her hand after a moment and made a gesture for him to sit. He did so and pulled his satchel into his lap, hands searching for his reports instantly.

The doors opened and closed behind him again, and a tall man entered the room quietly, pace quick to make his way over to the Lady.

“Princess, you should have called for me when this…” He paused, causing Sanji to halt his search to look at him with a raised brow. “Commoner,” He continued, and it took all his self-control not to scoff at the man’s clear disdain, “arrived at your study.”

“Are you implying I am not to be trusted?” Sanji kept his tone calm as he quipped back, removing the papers from his bag and settling them on the table casually. The stack of detailed notes caught the Lady’s eyes and she took them. “I was chosen by the Prince and his advisor himself, as you might well know.”

“I am not suggesting that the Prince or my Lady’s guardian would make any poor decisions in hiring you,” The man’s arms folded tightly across his chest with a huff, and his dark brownish-blond hair ruffled slightly in the gust of air. “Simply expressing my concerns that _anyone_ can turn into an opportunist should the chance appear.”

Sanji curled his lip in distaste, though was beaten to a reply by Vivi herself.

“Kohza, watch your tongue,” She scolded, eyes still trained on the papers as she read through them diligently. “We are guests here at the palace and as far as ranking goes, none of that class complexity truly applies here. You and Sanji here are near enough on the same ground if you really want to play that game.”

“Yes my Lady,” The man, Kohza, nodded once and then fell silent in apology, though it was most definitely not directed at Sanji himself. He breathed a silent sigh.

“And I am not really a Princess, Sanji, so don’t worry about that either.” Vivi smiled at him with a soft grimace in her expression. “I am too young to be given any real authority, and roughly eleventh in line for the South Blue throne, and will be cut off once the current Prince Sabo has a wife and child.”

“I have no doubt you would make a fine queen yourself, my Lady, though I’m glad that you are here instead, where I am graced with your presence.” Sanji grinned back, though it dimmed upon catching Kohza’s irritated glare. “And you are, sir?” He added none too gentlemanly.

“Kohza is my childhood friend and bodyguard.” Vivi spoke for him, evidently not wishing for the two men to cross swords once more. “Don’t fuss over him; he likes to make a song and dance of things.”

Behind her back, Kohza’s eyes narrowed and Sanji smirked.

“These notes, Sanji...” Vivi began, and the conversation dived into the reports that’d he made for the towns and villages he’d visited. They were mostly in the area surrounding the main city, those he could get to within a day’s walking or riding distance. The main city, of course, was maintained by royal soldiers, which meant he didn’t have to report on it, though he made sure to add a small note on what he saw in passing, just in case. He explained his plan to Vivi: with the nearest area observed and reported on, he would now move along the northern edges of East Blue, to the more remote areas, and steadily make his way around the borders of the land until he made it back to the main city in the centre, visiting all dwarven mining towns and fishing villages he could find in between. Vivi nodded and listened studiously, taking him at his word that he planned to do as he said, which he naturally would.

If he were to also stray over the border and pay a visit to the Outer Lands on his travels, well, no one would be the wiser.

“Your penmanship is truly remarkable Sanji,” Vivi noted as she began to file away the papers alongside her own notes. From his point of view, he could proudly see that his hand was only slightly less perfected than the sky-haired woman’s. The South Blue lettering seemed to include more swirls and longer lines in their characters compared to the fairly simple pen strokes of the Eastern style.

“Thank you, I do enjoy writing when I can,” Sanji smiled in response. “Though I’m afraid I have a limited supply; other materials tend to be of higher necessity.  I will of course make sure I have enough paper and ink for these reports.” He added for clarification at the end.

“If you ever need any, you can ask me,” Vivi nodded firmly, and Sanji felt his chest unwind at the sight of the confident young woman in front of him.

“Thank you, again. You’re too kind.”

“If I may ask, where did you learn your script?” The question was phrased out of curiosity and intrigue, but Sanji felt a wall of defensiveness stack up to push it back almost immediately.

“A friend of mine could afford a tutor when we were younger.” The prepared answer, the _script_ , slipped easily from his tongue like water, clear yet vague enough to withhold key information. A skill formed from eight years of rehearsing the same damned lines - naturally a Prince could pay for a tutor, after all. “Though I’m afraid it’s been many years since then. I taught myself after that.”

His voice took on a sad, reminiscing tone, to indicate that something had happened to his ‘friend’, and appropriately he watched as Vivi responded with a small, sorrowful half-smile.

“I’m sorry for your loss. You must have been close.”

“Like brothers.”

They shared a moment of silence, and then Sanji stood to take his leave. Vivi rose too, collecting a small locked chest the size of a book from the windowsill and then followed him to the doorway, with her silk robes trailing behind her like shimmering starlight. Kohza followed like a ghost, silently treading several steps behind them as the Lady herself guided him back through the castle with the ease of someone who knew the route well. Before they reached the main doors, Vivi cleared her throat a moment and the trio slowed to a halt.

“I have your payment Sanji,” she announced abruptly, fiddling with the chest she’d been carrying, and after a moment it unlocked and she took out a small handful of silver coins. It was more than the original agreed coin and he was about to protest when Vivi hushed him with a look. “I am aware that the term was three Silver, however I negotiated in the small print of your contract that I am allowed to pay out bonus money based on the efforts of your work. I don’t know a lot about how you came to the knowledge of absurd costs, nor how you brought it to our attention, but I know you did a lot of families a lot of good, and your eye for detail in your reports is admirable. Therefore it makes sense to pay you for a job well done, does it not?”

She stared him down confidently, a pleased grin on her shapely lips, the warm tawny colour of her skin flushed in her cheeks, and the sight of her took the words of disagreement straight from his mouth and left him to nod simply.

“I’m sure the extra coin will please your family too,” The young Lady added happily, pressing the money to Sanji’s outstretched hand.

“Yes.” Sanji murmured quietly, thoughts flashing briefly to his father, before disappearing once more. “Of course. Thank you, my Lady.”

Beside them, Kohza opened the palace door and held it wide, and with a deep bow to the South Blue Royal, Sanji made his way back home numbly; a slight bitter taste in his mouth and an old, imaginary ache in his heart.

 

* * *

 

He made the journey towards the Outer Lands a lot slower than usual, having stopped in villages and towns and trading ports as he travelled through them; dutifully completing his reports as he went. He bought a few things too; little luxuries that Law couldn’t grow or make himself, like sacks of sugar, salt, and other imported-in herbs and spices. He picked up cloth and wool and thread in another town, as well as fresh milk and bread and homemade jams once he was right near the border, within a day’s ride to the cabin. His saddlebags were heavy with goods as he traversed the swamp with Apricot, who voiced her complaints often. He soothed her over with fresh carrots and sugar cubes every other hour, until finally he was within sight of the familiar grounds.

Law was slouched against a log, whittling away at some new creation with a carving knife as he watched the blond approach, a dangerous move for a man holding a blade, but he was skilled at that by now.

“To what do I owe the honour?” Law smirked, eyeing the heavier-than-usual travel bags across the peach-coloured mare’s rump.

“Supply run, courtesy of my new job’s bonus pay,” Sanji replied with a vague grin, which widened when Law quirked a curious brow.

“I’ll help you take these inside,” Law sighed, and Sanji chuckled as he unmounted from the saddle with a bounce.

 

“So, what’s this about a new job?” Law asked between bites of their meal. Sanji had purchased a half a leg of lamb to cook up at Law’s, splitting the large amount of meat into smaller portions to cook both tonight and for later meals. He made them each steaks with carrots and new potatoes for their current dinner, spicing them with plenty of fresh herbs and gravy. The rest of the meat would be fine for an hour more until he cooks it up in a large stew that would last a several days.

“Well,” Sanji began, thinking through how to word his situation without provoking Law’s wrath. “I’d noticed that there were stalls selling food and things for outrageous prices. Seven Silver for a small loaf of bread, for example.”

Law’s brows shot into his hairline at hearing costs, and nodded for the blond to continue.

“Well, I was having none of it; I called that man out on his overpriced goods, made a right row in front of everyone. That was when I was arrested for theft and later released, if you remember.” Law nodded, recalling Sanji’s previous visit. “After that, well… things happened. A few completely innocent and unrelated incidents later, and I may have ended up in Prince Zoro’s courtroom. Did you know that the Princes Ace and Luffy of South Blue are staying at the castle right now?” He spoke the last bit cheerfully, hiding his nerves as Law’s eyes widened in shock.

“ _What?!_ What did you do?” Law grumbled out irritably.

“Oh, this and that.” He shrugged, making light of the chaos he’d been through, knowing full well that if Law ever found out the complete truth he was quite possibly a dead man. “To get to the heart of the matter: Prince Luffy made me his temporary guest, I had the most amazing bath and grooming session by an Aklithian doctor - _North Blue Aklithian doctor -”_ He added with emphasis, “and had some wounds treated, and Prince Zoro’s Royal Advisor hired me as an Informant of sorts; I’m to visit all the marketplaces of East Blue and report back if the stallholders are upholding to the new laws restricting the overpricing of goods.” With a proud grin, Sanji speared another piece of lamb and shovelled it into his mouth happily.

Apparently it was a lot of information for him to take in, Law blinked slowly several times, thinking through everything that he’d been told. Eventually, he spoke up, “And are you going to behave now that you have this job?”

“Behave?” Sanji parroted back immediately in question, eyes narrowed.

“I’m well aware of your ‘Dark Prince’ habits, remember.” Law wagged his fork at him. He did; Law had been there when he’d created the name and uniform. “You started this vigilante business to make a difference, as you once told me. Illegal work in aide of the poor, taking from the rich and greedy, bringing about a change in the social imbalances. Now that you have this job though, you’re helping these people in a much more legal way; would it not make sense to quit your night-time job with this?”

“It would,” after a few silent moments, Sanji agreed in murmur. “But it’s only a start. It doesn’t change the fact that there are too many in poverty in the first place. Even _I_ cannot change that, but I can help them further. I can bring them food and clothing and money which might help save them.”

Law’s look was one filled with sympathy and understanding; he knew all too well the grovelling and begging Sanji had done on their behalf when they were young, going town to town to find work and food for the both of them whilst the Prince hid out of sight. He had never condoned Sanji’s decision to turn to theft and fighting, but it had saved them on many a cold lonely night and he could understand the pain of those still suffering as they did. He was lucky enough to have inherited this cabin from Kureha during his last visit to her.

“I would still tread lightly now that you are working closely under Prince Zoro,” Law advised, finishing his plate of food and helping himself to a second portion. “From the sounds of it, that Elven woman who acts as Advisor is quite cunning and intelligent. If she catches you…”

“I promise to be careful.” He swore honestly. “And I promise to do it less often.”

“I’ll hold you to that promise. I can’t come save you from all the way out here.”

“I’m perfectly capable of defending myself!”

“Then why do you have that lovely little bruise along your cheek?”

“Shit, I didn’t think it was still visible…”

“I’m a doctor, Sanji. Of course I can see it.”

“Shut up.”

They continued to bicker over every little thing until the stew had finished cooking and they finally fell asleep.

 

* * *

 

Sanji kept to his word for the following fortnight, returning to the castle to meet and talk with Lady Vivi once more. This appointment was no more interesting than the last, although some of the towns in the more mountainous area had been more vocal about their complaints towards the new prices, and Sanji had made a note of those whose names he’d caught in passing and those he could memorise the physical appearance of. The Princess pursed her lips at these new notes, making a copy in her own ledger of the towns with the complaints and sighed at the list. A strand of hair came undone from beneath her dark red headscarf, which unlike last time, she now wore in a more flowing style over her light gold robes and red, high-necked and long-sleeved lace chemise. The colours were a stunning contrast to her skintone and vibrant hair, which she twirled around her fingers, and Sanji became distracted over every golden shimmer and flicker of blue locks.

“Is the travel difficult for you, Sanji?” She asked after a few moments of reading through his reports. “These are very out-of-the-way markets.”

“I have a mare, my Lady,” Sanji reassured her with a small smile, “and I take very good care of her. We’re both used to travelling long distances.”

“Is that so.” Vivi hummed thoughtfully. “What was it that you did before this then? Something with your travels?”

“Ah. Um,” Caught off guard, the blond flushed. He thanked the stars that Kohza was not with them for this meeting. “This is my first job in a very long time, actually. Since I was young lad.”

She glanced up at him curiously. “How did you earn your bread before now?”

A wince. “...I didn’t.”

Her mouth popped open as she realised his implications, and subconsciously her eyes flitted quickly over his handmade clothes and general scruffy appearance, despite his best efforts to clean up well before their meetings.

“Then whatever did happen to have you suddenly going from.. that, to this?”

“I stole overpriced bread from a market stall,” Sanji blurted out without hesitation, unable to deny her the truth. “And got arrested. And Lady Nico was kind enough to allow me my freedom again, once she’d heard of the circumstances. The arrest brought to light the unjust of market prices which led to the new law. And now I work to help uphold it.”

The blue-haired Royal regarded him for a moment, undiluted shock and surprise in her expression, and Sanji could almost feel her impression of him lower with the news. Kohza had been right to sneer; Sanji was a no-good thief at the best of times.

“Well, that’s all in the past now, is it not?” Lady Vivi spoke finally. “You did what you had to survive. And now you have a job that will help that.” Her words were sharp, tone indicating that she was a firm believer of them, like Sanji had not just told her he was practically a beggar on the street just short of a month ago.

“Yes,” Because that was all he seemed capable of saying to her, words catching in his throat like a vice.

“It was very kind of Lady Robin, and the Prince,” Vivi added conversationally, the mood light and open once more. Elbow against the desk, she leaned her chin in her palm with a smile. “I’ve heard snippets of his altercations with a certain market thief before; was that you?”

“Yes.” He repeated, though this time a small smile followed suit. “The Prince is a highly entertaining conversation partner.”

“So I’ve heard.” She laughed. “You’re also the one my cousin, Prince Luffy, made his guest for a night, right?”

Sanji nodded, and she laughed harder.

“Oh, I feel for that poor boy sometimes.” She wiped at her eyes in mirth, concluding the statement with a quiet, “being so close in line for the throne places a lot more hardships and regulations upon him in comparison to me… and yet, I think all he wants is to be free.”

Sanji thought back to the quirky young man on the horse, all wild energy and free spirits and confidence, and compared him to the sullen young man poised silently in regal robes and disheartened nature.

“I can understand that.” Sanji replied finally. The conversation changed back to the reports after a brief pause and once again the royal woman escorted him to the castle entrance and handed him his pay, and again it was more than before.

“I heard they are looking for a couple more fisherman along the Northern All Blue border,” She whispered to him, nimble fingers tucking the coins into his palm and curling his fingers over them. “Should this not be enough to sustain you or your family, I wouldn’t object to you finding temporary work in between your fortnightly job with me, so long as you report on time.”

“Thank you for the information.” Truly thankful, he bowed deeply and appreciatively, and made his way home again once more.

 

* * *

 

Not hours later saw Sanji upon the rooftops of the upper-class residential area in the Main City, dressed in his darkest garments and blue sash. Strapped to his thigh, a blade gleamed in its sheath as he slid down the roof towards a window, where he carefully dropped onto the ledge and unhooked the lock with its thin blade. It came undone with a faint click, and he stepped inside.  
  
Footfalls as silent as the grave, he traversed the near-pitch black rooms like a ghost, searching with purpose to find what he wanted; namely, coin and clothing and food. He knew to be careful; not take too much from any one room, or anything distinctive that could be recognised or noticed in its absence, and he made sure not to take too much from each house. He pocketed some coin from one rich man, a bit of clothing from a fanciful woman - which she surely would not miss considering it was balled up beneath her stack of dress shoes - and food from a clearly gluttonous family. His satchel bulged by the end of his endeavours and he made sure he left as he appeared - as if he was never there at all.  
  
He travelled through the night with his prizes, and reached his destination as the sun began to turn the clouds a pinkish orange, still hidden behind the horizon but waking the world anyway. He left the goods in arrangements by the doors of poverty-stricken homes in the slums, places where he knew they were needed; clothes for the families of growing children, food for the elderly who could not walk the distance to the markets; money he distributed as evenly as he could, and he hid them carefully where they were out of sight, in doorways and shoes and in flowerpots.  
  
His last stop was commonly an orphanage or shelter, where the money he lifted from fat pockets would most definitely be in better use. There was where he was most well-known; wild and lonely children would often wake in the night and see him leaving gifts and now expect him to visit on occasion, where he'd play with them for a few minutes in silence - his accent may be recognisable and he daredn't risk it - before handing out bronze and silver to the kids and gold pouches to the women who ran the facilities.  
By the time he made his way home the sun was breaching the mountain's peak and morning was well on its way, though by then he'd left the populated areas and walked the scenic route towards his home in proud peace. On his mind was where to go next - now that his business in the Outer Lands was sorted and his latest reports handed in, he could decide where to go next. The logical answer would be to either head south-east and along that way, or north along that familiar border. The illogical answer reminded him of Lady Vivi's information: a quick fishing job on the All Blue border.  
  
All Blue was at the centrepoint of all four countries; a body of water the reached far past the horizon no matter which land it was viewed from, by all means a 'lake' and yet it was as deep and dangerous as the seas, where beasts roamed in the bottomless pit at the middle of the waters and only the reasonable depths around the borders belonged to the countries it edged. The middle belonged to the beasts, and only the bravest fisherman dared to sail in its free depths.  
  
He'd been to the East Blue fishing towns before as a young, desperate boy, both in winter and summer months, eager to find food and work for himself and Law, braving the scorching hot sun and terrifying stormy waves in darkness, and he could almost taste the salt on his tongue as he thought about possibly returning there.  
  
His thoughts continued in such a manner for most of the night, as he cooked his meal for the evening, washed his Dark Prince outfit clean of dirt and evidence, bathed and untangled his hair under the slow trickle of his little waterfall, and he eventually decided that maybe he should go, just for the temporary job. It would only be a few nights at sea at most, and he would have plenty of time to travel some of the ways along the Northern or Southern borders afterwards to fill out his reports. It would be good if he could see some familiar faces, he thought, just to see if they'd remember his scrappy younger self. Maybe he could relearn some of the old sea shanties the weathered sailors would murmur through the blazing heat and howl at the top of their lungs in the midsts of a storm. Maybe he could play with the younger children again, or pick up an additional job teaching them to swim or fish for shrimp, though deep down he knew he'd teach them for free no matter what. And he would certainly help spread the riches of his nightly endeavours with the families there too.  
  
By morning he was on his way; Apricot left untied to wander the nearby fields, or go free - he decided she deserved the freedom to choose. He heard her neigh as he left, and after a couple hours walking the road he managed to hitch a ride on a horse-drawn wagon full of now-empty fish barrels and netting. He struck up easy conversation with the older man steering the horse, soon learning many interesting adventures the man had had in his prime, his heart lifting as he laughed and awed over the stories, and he was glad he made this choice; perhaps he needed the change of pace.  
  
He insisted on paying for the man's inn room as they stop for the night, and the man returns the gesture with a drink, and the two retire as the sun sets so that they could rise before it appeared again. The next day was much of the same, although Sanji managed to convince the man - whose name was Jeremy, he learned - to hand over the reins to him halfway through the day so that he could rest; Sanji knew the way to their destination by now. It was one of the towns he'd been to before, when he was about 16 or 17 years old, when he started learning to fight tough and ask questions later, and his toughness was put to the test against the unforgiving currents of the depths of the All Blue centre. He learned so much with those men that he knew he'd never forget in this lifetime; it helped shape his world, his ability to survive in harsh conditions and he learned to enjoy nature and whatever it decided to throw at him.  
  
They arrived at the fishing port well into the night, and Jeremy invited the blond to stay at his home, where he lived with his wife and grown son. He tried to reject his offer kindly, but the older gentleman had none of it, and so he enjoyed a warm soup with bread with a kind little lady and the men of the house who laughed heartily at each other's tales of their days without seeing the other. It was such a warm, inviting environment, and yet Sanji felt oddly closed off from the scene; after all, it was not his family he was dining with, nor was it his bed that he slept in that night, just a guest one they had in their tiny spare room. He kept his smiles bright, despite this; it would not do to upset the lady of the house in any case.  
  
In the morning, Jeremy set him up to go fishing on his son Samuel's boat, along with his seafaring friends Scott and Drew. The four of them would sail as far out as the currently calm waters would allow them and fish for a couple of days for whatever they could catch, and avoid the sea monsters as best they could. Sanji knew he probably stood a chance of fighting them should they encounter one, though he knew better than to wish for trouble and only took his dagger with him aboard, as well as his pipe and spare clothes.  
  
Halfway through the trip, the blond having easily adjusted to the oddly warm weather, the calm rolling of the boat underfoot and the loud snoring of his bunk mates, and he was finally asked the question he knew would arise from hauling nets into the boat whilst lacking a shirt.  
  
"What kind of trouble did you get yourself into, laddy?" Scott, a scruff-bearded gent eyed his burns with a sense of morbid curiosity.  
  
"Played with fire as a cocky young boy." A puff of smoke escaped Sanji's pipe as he adjusted the ropes around the mast. "Not as cocky anymore, mind."  
"I don't doubt that!" Drew laughed.

"I'm serious," Scott continued, brow furrowed in interest. "What the hell happened to you, boy?"

"Like I said, fire." Sanji replied back evenly, tone giving nothing away. "A whole lot of fire."

Scott went silent, and Drew leaned over to nudge the raven-haired man's shoulder roughly. "Don't go pestering into the man's past, you ninny. It's damn well rude."

"It's fine," Sanji hummed cheerily, though he later subconsciously pulled his shirt back on despite the humidity of the sea air. Later on, the blond would feel the weight of his anxiety lift once more after a few bottles of rum and loud singing until the early morning.

 

* * *

 

Prince Zoro had received a notification from the coastline that ships were having some troubles bringing in goods due to the constant changes in the weather. The humidity of the sea was clashing with the leftover frosts on the land and affecting the expiration dates of the hauls brought inland, and if resources could not be brought to the villages they would soon have a shortage of food in that area.

The forest-haired Prince organised a convoy of supplies to be taken there amongst his other duties during the day, and once it was ready he prepared to send it off - only to encounter Lady Vivi overlooking the carriages of goods.

"Princess," he called, curious, eyes narrowed. The palace staff backed away from the two royals quickly, allowing them some small privacy in the courtyard.

"Your highness," Vivi dipped in a small courtesy, flashing him a small smile.

"Is there something the matter with this carriage?" Zoro asked formally, wondering for a second if he'd missed something.

"No, no, nothing like that!" The sky-blue trails of hair framing her face fluttered as she shook her head side to side. "I was merely curious about the situation. May I be informed?"

"The fish markets are having some difficulty transporting their goods due to the early onset of humidity from the sea," he responded carefully. "The weather brought over from All Blue is often unpredictable and in this case the fresh produce is perishing quicker than usual, which means it cannot go as a far inland as it normally would. This convoy is to help bring additional food and supplies to the towns and villages that would normally make trade on those fish."

Normally this wouldn't be seen as such an important matter to some people, but Zoro knew better. Sure, the fishing villages would have enough to eat, but without the trade they would have no income, and the inland markets would have the opposite effect - they would have money and other goods for trade but less food. The longer this went on without aide the more dire the situation will become, and so he hoped it can be sorted as soon as possible.

"I see!" Vivi clasped her hands together. "And you are going too, correct?"

He blinked, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"Well," the Lady blushed, meek after her sudden outburst. "I just thought, it would be the kind of gesture a community-driven Prince like yourself would do, to personally help the villages and markets in need, be a picture of social service, or something along those lines. It would give out a very positive image of the Royal family if the Prince were to visit these towns and show how much you cared." Her eyes widened. "Not that I think you don't care!" She added, "It's just- it's something I often do when I know there's something I can do to help. I like to oversee things working in person."

Zoro considered it for a moment, and found himself agreeing with her. Besides, he often involved himself in the ongoings of the Main City and the surrounding cities and towns - what would be the difference of visiting those smaller locations? It would just further prove how far he was willing to go to personally help as many of his people as he could, and that was the kind of King he wished to be. Naturally he would have to consult with his ever-elusive King Regent, Lord Mihawk, but he doubted the man would disagree with his plans. As he got older he became used to Zoro's odd policies and plans.

"I'll think it over," Zoro nodded, and Vivi smiled happily in response.

"I didn't mean to step out of line with my opinion," she stated shyly, almost bashful.

"No matter, I always try to listen to the thoughts of my peers." Zoro frowned. "I know I'm a young leader. As my Adviser loves to remind me, I sometimes make easy mistakes that could be fixed by listening to those around me, and the people of East Blue. I will learn better by hearing everything that those important have to say to me and consider the best options from there." He tried a small smile, though it felt like more of a smirk. "Besides, I know that your advice is often second to none, according to Prince Ace. So I will definitely think over your words."

Lady Vivi flushed, thanked him quickly and returned into the castle. It was true of what he said; Ace and Luffy had spoken highly of their young cousin and her intelligence, and her way with their people. It was a valuable trait and he inspired to learn from her; and this was most likely the best way to start that.

"Hold the convoy for another hour, I'll return shortly." He ordered his men, who saluted formally, before leaving to search out his advisor and Mihawk.

 

A Royal sleeper carriage was soon arranged for Zoro in order for him to travel alongside the convoy. Normally the Prince would allow for a stop overnight for his men, however in light of the perishable goods in their possession he instead doubled his ensemble of soldiers, so that they could take turns riding and guiding the carriages towards the towns in need throughout the night without tiring. It would be uncomfortable, but it was a good choice for the situation.

The men agreed to it without complaint, although the Prince wasn't sure if they actually would speak up in protest in this situation, since he was going to be making the journey with them. Nonetheless the journey was mostly uneventful, stopping only to feed and water the horses and change riders. By the time they reached the affected villages the foods and goods with them were still as fresh as the previous day, and Zoro's men helped distribute them in the markets to the people who needed them. As they did so, Zoro himself made an announcement on the small stage in the centre of the market square.

"My people," he began, and he quelled the nerves that threatened to shake his voice. He didn't enjoy public speaking, despite how often he was made to do it. "Your troubles have reached me and I do not wish to stand by without taking action. Though the problem is small right now, I have no intention of letting it progress further - until the unusual weather brought in from the All Blue is settled, we hope to provide food and other merchandise to the local area to help tide you all over for the time being. It is not much at the moment, considering that we could not establish just how bad the situation was from the Main City, but once we have a clear understanding of all accounts we will try to accommodate the differences. This is merely a temporary solution to a temporary problem, after all; our goal is to return things to normal."

He nodded his head towards the wagons. "I trust that you will only take what you need from this contribution. There are many other stops that we will be visiting along the way to the coast and I'd like to help as many people as possible." He tried a smile, and found many faces smiling back him in surprise. "Let's overcome this together."

Villagers applauded him as he stepped down, and suddenly the atmosphere of the people shifted, people shared the soldier's job of distributing food amongst themselves, and he could see where the less well-off people took only small portions for their families, and the slightly better off sigh and shrug and take little to nothing. It was odd, seeing this side of his citizens. He was never this involved with the poorer side as he should be, and now he could see why someone such as Sanji might want to resort to more desperate tactics to help them. Even the slightest differences in classes appeared vastly different in light of this small problem.

Thankfully, the townsfolk decided not long later that they had enough of the goods brought to them, and the Prince had to wade through hordes of thankful villagers, praising him and thanking him for visiting personally, one wild mother even lifting her babe to his face for a blessing. He complied with a small pat of the young girl's head, feeling too awkward to do much more than that, though the mother sighed happily anyway. When the crowd became too overwhelming his men stepped in to surround him, and soon after they began the journey to the next town.

Their travels continued in much the same manner, only having a few markets needing their attention before reaching the fishing towns in question. The first one they reach, close to the North Blue border, was lively. Word from the passers by was that a fishing boat had just come to port with a good haul, and likely not to be as affected by the odd weather than the previous hauls. Which was ultimately good news, Zoro supposed.

He led the wagon full of goods towards the town centre, where music could be heard as they approached. The centre itself was small and crowded, so Zoro ordered his men to stay with the wagon on the outskirts and simply distribute if and when they can to people who might need it.

The beat picked up as he wandered his way to the centre, where there appeared to be a clearing. A semi-familiar tune about drunken sailors was being sung amongst the men there, some playing a beat on homemade drums out of barrels, others hit bells that made a hissing noise, and there was a few men carrying string instruments from what he could see. Although, only one lone fiddle could be heard at the moment, and he calmly excused himself to the front of the crowd, curiosity driving him forward-

And there he saw him. Sanji.

Sanji swooped and danced as he played the fiddle, kicking his feet to the beat and chants of the men singing behind him. He seemed breathless with laughter and dancing at the same time, though he never seemed to miss a beat, and with a dramatic flourish he finished the last chord to near deafening applause and cheers.

"What's that?" The blond called with a pant, grinning widely, "Is that a call for more?!"

The gaggle of young women beside the Prince seemed oblivious to him as they giggled and cried out for an encore.

"What's say, boys?" Sanji turned to his bandmates, whom Zoro assumed to be some of the local sailors, and they grinned and cheered too.

"How about a good ol' jig," Sanji nodded, and suddenly he was counting a beat with the tap of his feet, the drummer picking it up instantly, and it followed with deep strong cords of his fiddle, dramatic flairs and an air of adventure erupting in song from his hands. Like magic, it seemed to draw the crowd's attention, and kids danced around him, laughing and playing pirates with wooden swords, and suddenly the short tune finished as one of the kids pretended to be slain by the other.

"Awwh!" The 'slain' boy cried. "Just one more?!"

His mother rushed forward to silence him, red faced, though Sanji simply smiled, breath laboured.

"Give me a second, kid, I like breathing too!" He joked, and then jumped when the man with the bell instrument handed him a small pitcher of water. "Thanks, Samuel." He nodded, and the Prince almost scowled at the informal nature between the two. It was quickly replaced by intrigue, however, as his golden brown eyes were suddenly met with one bright blue one.

A sly smile crept up on Sanji's face as they stared each other down, and the longer they held each other's gaze the more people noticed the Prince's presence.

"My oh my, we have a special guest watching our performance, lads!" Sanji announced, coy, sliding forward on silent steps until he appeared before the Royal, who now stood alone as the crowd took notice of how close they'd been next to him. Guards stepped forward at his back, only relaxing when Zoro gave them a small shake of his head.

"What brings you all the way out here, Mossy?" Sanji hummed, still a little out of breath but curious enough to ask nonetheless. This close, Zoro could see in detail the way the man’s visible eye was wide with adrenaline, the way he panted slightly through parted lips and the flushed redness of his cheeks from exertion.

"The problem with All Blue's humidity affecting the perishing time on the goods brought in by the fishermen, of course."

"Ahh yes, that has been happening lately, isn't that right Drew?" the slightly taller man whirled to confirm with the redhead drummer.

"Aye, good thing our catch was a goodin'. You must be good luck, Sanji!"

"Sod off," Sanji called back with a laugh, causing the men around him to laugh too.

"You were out fishing too?" It blurted out unwillingly, though he didn't truly regret asking since he was rewarding with a cunning grin and raised brow.

"Naturally, I _am_ the seafaring sort at heart."

"I had no idea."

"There's lots that you don't know about me, Mossy." With a wink, the blond darted back into the clearing, a loud call of "One last song, seadogs!" and a jaunty tune. The tune was vastly more upbeat this time, even more so than the song about sailors, and Sanji played so quickly that the drummer, Drew, struggled to keep up. Thankfully he only needed to play a simple beat; the intricacy seemed to lie with Sanji himself, his fingers flying over the strings quicker than anything the Prince had ever seen up close.

Like this, he saw everything. He saw the way the blond’s fingers pressed hard on the string, the lightning quick flicks of his wrist as he played each note, the sweat that glistened on his brow where visible and how it made his long fringe cling to his face and chin. His eyes were closed in concentration, mouth puckered slightly and curving upwards on one side, and his feet tapped in place as if he wanted to dance more but had no energy for it. The song was over quicker than the others, having taken up a lot more force out of the blond, but the villagers cheered all the more for him. As the former-thief caught his breath, another man picked up the pace with a guitar and the singing and music continued once more.

It was exciting, thrilling even. It was unlike any other musical performance he’d seen at galas or royal occasions; here, the music was raw, felt from deep within, the smiles were real and unforced, the breathlessness obvious instead of held within poised and careful corsets. This was how his people enjoyed music. This was how a community of people gathered together and bonded, celebrating something as simple as a new haul of fresh fish.

A local man offered him a flagon of frothy beer for free from his tavern, and so upswept he was by the music and spirit of the citizens around him that he accepted, to the surprise of everyone around him.

“You people,” he began, the music waning as he spoke, and he nearly missed it already. “You are the heart of this land. This kind of spirit is what I love the most; the pure happiness that I can feel from all of you right now is what I want to make happen everywhere, all the time. I wish for everyone to feel this peaceful happiness. I promise I will work hard as your future King to bring everyone a peaceful life.”

In the pause, one voice spoke up, calm and honest. “Long live the future King.”

Sanji stood a few feet in front of him, his own glass raised, smiling softly.

The sentiment echoed around Zoro like a flock of songbirds, but Zoro directed his wholehearted, bashful grin and his glass to just one person in particular.


	11. Anniversary Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you message and surprise!

 IM A DAY LATE IM SORRY

 

The first of July marks exactly one year since we started posting this fic!

Thank you to everyone who has supported us with this story so far. 

I know this isn't much in the way of thanks, but I loved drawing this and I hope you enjoy it!!

I planned on writing so much more but I think you all know how much you mean to us.

All of your comments helped us continue on!

Thank you so, SO much, and hopefully you'll still be here for the next update, which is in progress!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, thank you!
> 
> To see the image better, go here: http://mossyprinceau.tumblr.com/post/162504849699/turns-up-a-day-late-panting-and-sweating-okay


	12. Pathetic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mihawk shows his old-fashioned values, an alliance is in its infancy, and all Zoro can think of is how much of a lesser person he is than his sister...

The book sat upon a dark stained table in a dark room. It was a battered small thing, but fat in page number with wads of loose parchment jutting out of it at all angles. The room was dimly lit, cold but not unpleasantly so with the fire in the hearth fighting to keep the spring night’s chill at bay. At the foot of the table sat the king’s regent a with serious look upon his equally as serious face.

Mihawk had served as the previous king of East Blue’s advisor before his death and subsequent position as acting king until the prince was old enough to take his rite of passage and claim sole leadership himself. The lines around his sharp yellow eyes told of eight years of difficulty and a wisdom that had yet to touch the young Roronoa’s face. Prince Zoro was sat at his right hand, black doublet and trousers with scarlet trim, and a deep blood red cloak thrown about his broad shoulders and clasped at his throat with golden couplings. The small scars that nicked the odd few places on his face – his right brow, his bottom lip, the base of his chin – were more prominent in the candle light and gave him an even more dour expression. He glared at the book as though doing so would burn it to ashes and make it exist no more.

To the left of King Mihawk sat Robin, the beautiful elf looking as severe as the two men she worked for, her dark hair scraped back and pinned from her face, accentuating her sharp cheeks and the blades that were her ears. Her eyes gleamed like sapphires as she looked from the book to the South Blue prince seated at the foot of the table.

“I am sorry to have to bring you this news,” Ace said, his hand combing through the tangles of his hair in a worried fashion, “My brother, the king, would have come himself were the situation not as dire as it is.”

“We understand completely, your highness,” Robin replied, her voice calm and collected but when was it never? It was not in an advisor’s nature to belie any emotion after all. Mihawk was much the same, his expression resting on neutral ground, but Ace could not say the same for Zoro. The young prince looked so furious he was concerned he may lash out at something, most likely the book before him.

“I would have liked your brother’s presence to be here, where he is needed. He has not been the same since that Lady Koala _involved_ herself.” Mihawk was blunt and Ace immediately felt anger swell up inside of him but he knew better than to talk back to a king, especially when the accusation wasn’t entirely unfounded. Ace waited for him to say something more, perhaps offer his thanks that at least one of the South Blue sons had come to discuss this, but he’d apparently been too hopeful for the older man said nothing else.

He cleared his throat, “King Sabo offers his sincerest apologies, your grace.” He tried weakly.

Mihawk’s snort at that cut him more than his words, “His apologies mean very little. How serious can he be taking the situation? Rumour has it you have an Aklithian running your army – a _foreign_ one too. Is that such a wise move?”

Ace caught the apologetic and frankly embarrassed look Zoro was sending his way and used it to steel his heart against the king’s opinion. If Mihawk thought it was bad enough to have a shapeshifter running the garrisons then the gods knew what he’d think of a prince _sleeping_ with one. He was choice with his words, “The Lord Marco is an excellent and valuable asset to our cause. Recruitment has gone up by a hundred in the last year alone since he took his place, he has more than proved his worth.” It was a struggle to keep his voice neutral and although he thought he had done well at doing so, the king raised an eyebrow.

“Mere _boys_ running an entire kingdom. This is _exactly_ why East Blue does not allow ascension until at least twenty-one, and even then, not until the child has _proved_ their worth.” Mihawk said, giving a look that Zoro pointedly ignored before shifting in his seat.

“Perhaps, your grace, it would do well to not compare our country’s customs and instead discuss how we plan to work together,” The East Blue prince said, his voice soft but firm; a tone that demanded respect and authority. Mihawk’s mouth twitched in what could have possibly been a smile, but it was gone too fast for Ace to determine.

“An excellent suggestion indeed,” The king agreed and leaned forward to take his cup into his hand, drinking deeply from the wine in it before continuing, “I trust your information is from reliable sources?”

Ace tried not to be confrontational but his nature got the better of him, “It depends what your grace would define as _reliable_ ,” Zoro grabbed his cup of wine a little too quickly and when Ace looked at him, he could see the smile the prince was trying to hide against the rim of his drink, “We have sent out scouts to West Blue, of course, and all their accounts are recorded in the book I have presented you with. Our best cartographers have marked their movements upon the maps, and our scouts in North Blue have provided us with some extremely interesting and disturbing news; King Doflamingo is on the move.”

“And he is looking to hold North Blue castle now.” Mihawk finished for him, “It makes perfect sense he would do so considering how long the fool has prattled on about rightfully owning it these past eight years and more. Who holds the castle for him currently? Your scout’s reports suggested someone I most certainly did not expect.”

“Zeff, your grace,” Ace confirmed.

“What? Are you sure? You mean the same man who used to serve in Corazon’s army? Red leg? Are you absolutely sure?”

“Without a doubt, seems he had it within him to be a turn-cloak. He was last seen with one of Doflamingo’s other associates, Caesar Clown.”

“How many strong?” Zoro asked, drink placed down and his fingers now drumming the tabletop.

“Scouts placed it in the region of two, three thousand men. More than we can afford to take on without bringing attention to ourselves, Doflamingo believes we have no notion of his intent to take over all the kingdoms and we’d rather keep it that way. We retain the upper hand the longer we have the element of surprise,” Ace said.

Mihawk looked from the book to Ace, fixing the prince with his piercing yellow eyes, “So what is it you are asking from us?”

Ace swallowed, “An alliance would be preferable. We will keep it secret from the public other than the men in our armies so no news of it can spread and we will have the benefit of being an organised force against Doflamingo instead of being scattered. If not that then at least permission to cross through your lands to place ourselves on the North Blue border and some provisions for our men and horses. I know it is a bold thing to ask of you, your grace, but please trust in me when I tell you that we would not give you such cause for grief unless we were completely certain in our enemy’s actions.”

The king regarded him one last time before turning to Robin whom appeared to be poised and ready for anything he could ask of her, “Lady Nico, please draft up requisitions and terms. I wish to have this treaty of alliance signed before the week is out. The princes Ace and Zoro will attend at least three more talks before anything is finalised but, for now, I admit I am quite amiable to the idea of an alliance. We shall send out some of our own scouts too, see what they have to bring back to us of these events.”

“Yes, your grace,” Robin dipped her head and rose from her chair, gathering up the book Ace had given them and melting into the shadows of the room where the door opened and closed softly.

Mihawk turned back to Ace, “You shall summon this Aklithian general of yours and some officers. If they are to mingle with my men I would like to know what they are getting first.”

Ace nodded stiffly, resisting the urge to snap back that Marco had a _name_ , and Zoro swiftly found his wine incredibly interesting once more until the king regent stood smoothly from his chair, bid them good night, and left the room. It wasn’t until Ace could no longer hear his footsteps retreating down the hallway that he stood himself and moved across to lean over the back of Zoro’s chair with a heavy sigh.

“Is he always like that?”

“You mean the whole being against Aklithian thing? Or the ‘I’m better than you in every conceivable way’ thing?” Zoro asked, tipping his head back to fix Ace with his golden eyes, “Because yes, he’s always been that way. He refuses to even be treated by Chopper though he is the best healer we have.”

“He’d best hope he doesn’t come down with anything too serious then,” Ace said bitterly, “Wouldn’t that be a shame?”

Zoro raised an eyebrow, “Is that _treason_ I hear? I could have your head for that.”

“You wouldn’t dare, especially when you know I’m right,” Ace retorted and Zoro began laughing, “You’re twenty-one, Zoro. Why can’t you just take your rites of ascension? I know I’d prefer talking to you much more than that miserable old man.”

“Would that I could. You know full well the heir has to have proven their worth first,” The young prince sighed and placed his goblet next to him with small clang, “I am sorry for how he spoke in here and I know he has some rather _old_ views on certain things but, honestly, you couldn’t ask for a better ally anywhere else.”

“Except maybe North Blue, you know, if King Corazon and his heir were still around.”

“You’re probably right about that,” Zoro admitted.

Ace smiled and snatched up Zoro’s cup to drink from it himself, “Of course I am.”

 

* * *

 

Zoro sat in the Glade of Mourning, the long, wispy lengths of grass tickling at the sensitive skin of his wrists. It was midday and a balmy breeze had found its way through the crevices of the surrounding mountains to ruffle his hair and breathe life into the garden around him. The god and goddess trees were oddly silent today but that was because Zoro was giving them nothing at all to go on. The young prince had spent a good part of the last hour meditating beside Kuina’s grave. He did not know exactly why he had chosen such a place, it was not as though he truly believed in the religious teachings and scripture that if one truly loved those who had passed, it was possible to connect with them and speak though they were worlds apart. Zoro had loved Kuina more than anything. How many times had he wished, begged the gods to let him take her place? All he had known for his sister was love and if she was hearing him then she was most certainly ignoring him, but Zoro knew her well enough to be sure that she would never be so cold.

_She’d always been one for talking, much more than I ever was_.

How true that had been. Kuina had always been quite the talker, no better than a gossiping fishwife their mother used to say, but Zoro had never thought that of her. Where he was quiet and reserved, she was loud and confident, yet she had always known what Zoro would think or say on the matter at hand whether he had actually spoken or not. She was kind like that. He’d always found it hard to express much on subjects so she had taken it to be her job to make sure Zoro’s opinions were heard through her. He regretted it a little, perhaps if he had spoken more as a child he might have grown into a man with a better manner of speech and choice of words. He was grateful for Robin’s exceptional skills in diplomacy, without her Zoro’s bluntness would have landed him in many difficult situations, most likely even war. Or, in the case of Mihawk, having to give up the claim to the throne.

He knew he disappointed the man. Not many would know it from the way in which they spoke to each other, but Zoro was in fact Mihwak’s nephew. Zoro was little source for joy in the eyes of his uncle and king, but he could hardly blame the old man. Mihawk and his brother, Zoro’s father, came from a long line of proud and strong kings and queens that stretched back over a thousand years. They had prided themselves on being exceptional democrats and powerful warriors and scorned anyone below them. Though Zoro had lived up to the warrior part, his less than perfect way of speaking and his concern for his subjects made him a failure of sorts in Mihawk’s eyes. It had never been much of a secret that his uncle had preferred Kuina over him, always showering her with gifts of swords and books on history and noble diplomacy, and Zoro knew there was a somewhat bitter resentment in his uncle that Kuina had died and not his good for nothing nephew. ‘It’s that wife of yours that ruined him,’ Mihwak would say to his brother, regardless of whether Zoro was there or not, ‘He’s got your strength alright, but her heart. That’s what’ll do him in one of these days. Kuina though? She shows great promise. It’s good you had her first.’

_Good you had her first_ , one of the goddess trees whispered and Zoro could feel the others leaning in to listen to her, _It’s that wife of yours that ruined him_.

He rested his head against the cool stone of his sister’s grave, the slickness of some accumulated dew dampening his hair slightly, and breathed in calmly through his nose and out through his mouth. Slow and steady, centring himself around his sister and letting the feel of the grass against his wrists soothe him. _Am I really so ruined?_ He thought, no longer caring if the trees heard him or not. All that mattered was breathing in, then out, in, then out. An endless cycle. He allowed himself to think of a night he rarely thought of. It was so long ago now…

The smoke and the flames, and his mother and father buried beneath the rubble. His lungs burning with every breath and his throat raw from screaming. The sounds of the soldiers marching closer and closer, almost upon him, ready to come find him and kill him. If he had picked up a sword, if he had stood his ground and fought would his uncle have cared? Would Kuina not have died? Instead he had screamed, kneeling pathetically on the floor covered in blood, dust, and tears. _Was I really so pathetic?_

_Pathetic_ , the goddess tree echoed.

_Pathetic_ , the other trees agreed.

_No. I was_ thirteen _. I was thirteen. I could have done nothing more,_ Zoro thought and his brow furrowed deeply, _What was I supposed to have done? Not wept for them at all? They were my family, I had lost them all_. There had been two other children there too, one crying over the other, bundling him up into his arms and off the floor. _Had they been weak too then?_ One had been dark haired and tall, the other blond, so blond his hair looked golden. They had made eye contact for a moment and Zoro had been lost in a sea of blue and blood before the boy had gathered up the crown at his feet and stumbled off, the other in tow.

Zoro’s mind focused on that for some reason. Why the crown? Why the gold hair? What was so important?

_Lost them all_ , the lone goddess tree considered, interrupting his line of thought and it slipped from him like sand through fingers.

The other trees weren’t having the excuse. _Pathetic,_ they disagreed, sneering.

Zoro’s eyes snapped open and his mind and his heart were a flurry of blind rage, “I was a _child_!”

There was a stunned silence at his outburst that permeated the air and it wasn’t until it had become so unbearably heavy that he thought he might cry that Zoro realised he was not alone.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think we were all children once.”

The golden hair and the blue eye made the prince nearly overcome by the irrational need to weep. He refused to cry though, not before this man. He cleared his throat and his customary frown etched itself back onto his face, “What’re you doing here? How did you get in?”

Sanji blinked and pushed off the tree he was leaning against. His hair was pulled back in a braid that fell over his left shoulder and his fringe swept over the one side of his face as always, bangs framing the curves of his jaw and slant of his cheeks. His lips drew up in a slight smile as he spoke, “I think I remember you hiring me to work here. I just came to give the Lady Vivi some notes I had forgotten. As for how I got in… you do realise your castle has _doors_ , correct?”

Zoro’s voice was strained, too relieved to see a familiar face that he could not find the right tone to give back a biting remark, “I am well aware.”

The blond was wearing a thin cotton shirt and loose trousers, the ends of which were bound with strips of cloth and tucked into leather boots that reached halfway up his shin. The smile on his face and the mirth in his one visible eye had noticeably died at the prince’s strained response and he was now regarding Zoro with a more serious gaze, one which the prince had never seen before and it made his stomach and chest nonsensically tighten to the point that he felt ready to vomit.

Something within him fluttered at the thought that Sanji had never looked at him like this before, “Are you alright, your highness?”

That about did Zoro in right then and there. Sanji saying his title so seriously set his mind racing. What on earth was wrong with him? Was he sick? What was this gods-awful feeling? He covered his face with a hand, the other fisting the grass he sat upon until it was crushed beneath his fingers, “I think I may be slightly unwell,” he managed.

“Should I fetch the physician?” Sanji asked, but Zoro shook his head.

“No, it will pass.”

As he moved the hand from his face, he could see the way Sanji stood awkwardly, shifting side to side with a concerned expression on his face. Zoro oddly thought he looked striking stood beside one of the black goddess trees, its blood red leaves draping over him slightly, and it made his heart clench. He breathed in and out slowly, like he had taught himself. _It will pass,_ he thought, _it will pass._

_It will pass_ , the tree beside Sanji whispered.

The blond gave the tree a side-eye, “Creepy choice of plants. I prefer a good pine tree any day – far less sentient.”

The look on Sanji’s face as he said that released all the pressure in Zoro’s chest and the prince found himself smiling, _laughing_. Sanji blinked in surprise before laughing himself, “Perhaps you really are sick! I’ve never so much as cracked a smile out of you before.”

It had been a stupid joke, of that much he was certain, but the way Sanji made him _feel_ … the prince could not place it. He thought to speak to Chopper anyway, just to make sure this wasn’t some sort of madness he had somehow managed to succumb to after his trip down to All Blue.

_All Blue,_ the trees murmured, _singing, dancing._

_Pathetic_ , one or two of them said.

“Thank you,” Zoro said, “It has been a strenuous past few days.”

“I think playing host to two princes of South Blue whilst sorting out the troubles of your own subjects would understandably be _very_ strenuous,” Sanji smiled, “But your thanks? Why would I need it?”

“For making me laugh,” He replied, and a jolt went through him at the slight reddening of Sanji’s cheeks and his genuine smile.

“You are very much welcome, your highness, but you should know that I charge by the hour,” The blond jested.

“I already pay you enough,” Zoro pointed out.

Sanji inclined his head in agreement, “That you do and you have my deepest thanks for your generosity.”

There was a slight pause in which Sanji untied his braid and ran his fingers through it before tossing the wavy locks behind him. His hair shimmered like pure gold in the midday sun and small wisps became caught by the light breeze and moved, shifting, dancing.

Suddenly Zoro felt a million miles away, his mind connecting back to those two boys eight years ago. The one with the blond hair and the blue eyes. The crown he had gathered up in trembling and bloodied fingers. The left side of his face mangled and oozing red.

The same side Sanji kept covered.

There was something familiar now in the way the other man looked. He began placing him in those clothes from eight years ago as if they’d been made for him now, the dark blue robes and turquoise sash, the golden trims, and the red heart shaped stones in his ears- but then it was lost to flames and agony, and his parents’ lifeless bodies crushed and burning.

_Fire_ , the trees hummed, _Fire_.

There was a flash of something in Sanji’s eye, a tightening of his pale pink lips that Zoro couldn’t quite decipher the meaning of. And then it was gone as quickly as it had come, replaced once more by a composed expression.

_Pathetic_ , one tree uttered in disgust.

“These trees are… different,” Sanji offered, “I had heard tales of such plants but I’d been led to believe they had died out years ago. Apparently the elves of the Outer Lands didn’t take too kindly to humans using them and destroyed them all, or so the story goes.” His hand reached up to touch a few of the crimson leaves that formed a patchy canopy above him, slender fingers brushing against them gently. Zoro’s eyes watched them intently.

“My family holds to the old faith, these are the last of the trees left this side of border. They remind us of scripture, and hold onto memories and wisdoms that otherwise would have been lost to time,” The prince replied as one whispered another iteration of how pathetic he was. He frowned, “Sometimes I wish the elves had been successful and uprooted them all. But sometimes I do not.”

Sanji smiled, “I think they’re fascinating. I’ve never seen one outside of a painting before,” He placed his palm against its trunk, his pale skin a stark contrast to the black bark, “This one is so sad…”

“That’s its nature, it’s an Anuith tree – the goddess of death.”

He noticed Sanji was looking behind him at the graves wide his one visible eye wide, “I see. I am sorry for your loss.”

Zoro nodded, “It was some time ago now, but thank you.”

“It can still be painful,” Sanji said seriously, firmly, “Even after eight years.”

The prince frowned immediately, “I… never mentioned how long ago it was?”

Sanji’s expression faltered momentarily, like he had let something important slip, before it was smoothed over forcefully. Too forcefully, “Of course, but everyone knows the story, your highness. What else could it have been?”

He noticed the strain in the other man’s voice, as though he was extremely uncomfortable and regretted this part of the conversation and where it was headed, “I suppose you are right.”

He could see Sanji wanted to ask something, press further, but whatever it was he held his tongue. His blue eye trailed over each of the graves before resting on the prince with something akin to pity… no, sympathy? The look was one that suggested a mutual sadness. Was it over the same event? Had Sanji been there that night eight years ago? Had he lost someone too?

_North Blue. Castle. Fire_ , the trees sighed forlornly, absorbing the sadness and death that permeated the air.

Sanji withdrew his hand from the tree he stood under and bowed lightly, his hair falling forward in front of his face, “You must excuse me, I have taken enough of your time. If I had known what this place was I would not have been so rude to intrude.”

The prince was jarred, he had never known the other man to be so serious and it was beginning to get unsettling almost. He wanted the blond to smile, to crack a joke, to mock him even regardless of Zoro being the prince or not. This side of him was so sad, so awful to look at and hear that it made Zoro’s chest squeeze painfully, as though there was something unsaid between them that was so large it loomed over them and threatened to swallow him whole. This was a very different Sanji to the one he had seen at the All Blue docks.

“I-” He’d barely said more than a word when Sanji stood straight.

“Please excuse me. Good day.”

The blond gave a stiff looking smile, turned on his heel and left, taking the heavy feeling with him, but leaving the fluttering in the prince’s stomach behind where it flipped his stomach erratically. Once he was gone out of sight, the trees and plants swallowing him whole, the goddess tree he had stood under stirred again for the last time, murmuring in a soft mimic of Sanji’s voice.

_For what it’s worth, I don’t think you’re pathetic… mossy._

A flush of heat flooded the young prince’s face as he sat there, amongst the blades of grass and silent tombs and whispering trees as they passed the message from one to another, all of them talking as Sanji.

_I don’t think you’re pathetic._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait on this chapter everyone, without going too much into my personal life I've had a bit of a rough time of it lately and haven't been as able to commit to writing this as much as I've wanted to. Still, I hope you enjoy the chapter and thank you all for the continuing support on this fic! - mustangisinflames


End file.
